To Look Behind the Mirror
by JingTing
Summary: When Thorin Oakenshield and Company depart from Bag End, they are joined by a wild, unpredictable, curious, fierce and fiery magical being. Can she get them all the way to the Lonely Mountain in fifteen pieces? Can they fulfill their quest and take back their Mountain? And if they do, will the secret she carries with her prevent her from finding a home and a people to call hers?
1. Prologue

**Author's Note**

 **So, this is my first fanfiction and I'd like to say a few things. If you don't like author's notes, just skip ahead to the beginning of the story.**

 **First of all, I only own my OC. Everything else in this story goes to their respective owners.**

 **Second, English isn't my native language, so please excuse me for any mistakes. If you find them, do tell me. I'd love to improve my writing.**

 **Lastly, although I do intend to finish this fic, I won't promise regular updates. I have it all planned in my head, but getting it out proves challenging. Reviews might accelerate the process ;)**

 **That's it, so let's get started!**

* * *

 **Prologue**

He grunted as he pushed a branch aside, making his way through the forest of Fangorn and over to the huge willow where he knew he'd find her.

The Elves had told him she'd notified them a few years ago she would be living at the biggest willow in Fangorn, but as she was unpredictable and didn't always bother to let the world know her plans, he couldn't be sure he'd be able to find her. Fortunately, it soon turned out he needn't have worried, as he had heard a soft voice inside his head after having sent out an enchanted whistle into the air to make sure she was even there.

 ** _"Gandalf,"_** she'd (for lack of a better word) said. **"L** ** _ong time no see."_**

 _"About five years,"_ he'd thought back, knowing she could hear his thoughts, though he could feel she hadn't pushed on to his feelings and memories as she (usually) considered this impolite.

 ** _"Come to the willow. I'll meet you there,"_** she'd said, before separating their connection and leaving him alone.

He smiled to himself. She had never cared much for subtlety, a result, he suspected, from her surviving on her own for most of her life.

As his current activity required nothing more from him than stomping along the trees and occasionally swatting branches and leaves away with his staff, he had plenty of time to let his thoughts drift back to about a week earlier, when he had met a rather grumpy royal outcast: Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, rightful King under the Mountain, though you'd never have guessed from the looks of him. Wet from the rain and dusty from the long and fruitless journey behind him, the dark-haired Dwarf had sat himself at a table in the middle of the inn, ordered a simple dinner from the waitress passing and sighed to himself, staring into the fire. That was when Gandalf had deemed it time to approach.

As he walked over the wet grass, he thought back to that evening, when the quest to retake Erebor from the Dragon had begun to take form.

 _After a few minutes of arguing, he finally manages to convince the Dwarf to attempt to take back his homeland. Upon Thorin's protest that he needs the Arkenstone to rally the seven Dwarven armies to his cause, the Wizard politely asks to be allowed to make a few suggestions concerning the soon to be formed Company. Thorin doesn't say anything, so Gandalf starts with the Burglar._

 _"_ _One is a Hobbit. You may have heard of them, simple folk, living simple lives not far from here. Yet of this particular Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins is his name, I have reason to suspect he will prove himself useful during the journey. I would urge you to employ him as our Burglar."_

 _Thorin does not look convinced at all, but doesn't complain. He probably saves his judgement for when he meets this Hobbit, although he has heard of them, and what he has heard did not impress him. Then he remembers the Wizard used 'a few suggestions'. He looks suspiciously at Gandalf, who merely smiles at him, and finally says, "Who else?"_

 _"_ _Ah, well, my second suggestion, we never really found out what exactly she is. But-"_

 _He is immediately interrupted by an angry Thorin: "She? You're suggesting we take a woman with us? Whom we will have to protect all the way? Have you lost your mind?! I will not-"_

 _He is silenced by a sharp look from the Wizard, who does not appreciate having his intellect questioned._

 _"_ _Listen, Thorin. She is female, yes, but not your run-of-the-mill lady. Magic flows through her veins, and surely you can understand that a little magic won't hurt if you plan on leading a Company through hostile lands. Trust me on this, and if you don't, please save your judgement for when you meet her, or rather, the both of them."_

 _Upon the Dwarf's sarcastic remark that he always thought Wizards were the ones to turn to when it came to magic, Gandalf simply states: "There is magic, and then there is magic."_

He pushed aside an especially stubborn branch and suddenly found himself at the edge of a lake, shining red in the light of the setting sun. Right in front of him stood a monstrous willow. Thick branches seemed to twist randomly (although he knew she must have influenced them to make the tree grow more to her liking), creating an enormous network of intertwining branches. In a few places, the branches had winded tightly around each other around an imaginary circle, creating dry, cosy holes, large enough for her to sleep in. He slowly approached the tree, wondering where she could be, when that question was answered by a loud, high-pitched roar, signalling her arrival.

He turned to the right and was able to make out her form rising from the water. While she soared towards him, he couldn't help but notice she seemed to have gotten bigger since the last time he saw her. Had she then been the size of a large dog, now she was almost as big as a pony. Good, it meant she would be the same height as the Dwarves.

He remembered having met her while staying with the Elves, years ago. She never told anyone where she had come from, simply wandering into Rivendell one day and asking questions about everything. The Elves, ever hospitable, had welcomed her and she soon turned out to be much more than a strange twist of nature. Her like had never been seen before on this Earth. One of the Elves had once described her as having 'the lethal grace of a panther, the loyalty of a wolf and the fire of a dragon' and these animals could also be used to describe her appearance. She could be suspicious, headstrong, and, when provoked, highly dangerous, but he knew that inside, she was friendly and endlessly curious about anything and everything.

The problem was, of course, that she was way too powerful a force to be wandering around uncontrolled. Eventually, he would have to convince her to play a more prominent role in Middle-Earth, but he knew better than to confront or force her. So instead, he had decided that taking her along on a trip with thirteen Dwarves, a Hobbit and himself would serve as the perfect opportunity to get her used to duty and obligation. Besides, he was certain she would come in handy one way or another.

She had now reached the shore and, barely moving her large, dragon-like wings, landed on the lowest, almost horizontal branch of the willow. Folding her creamy white wings, several shades lighter than the rest of her body, but keeping them a little open in order to keep her balance on the branch, Skyfire's deep, golden eyes looked straight into his.


	2. One

**Author's Note**

 **Sorry it took a while. A holiday, a Chinese test and a broken keyboard got in the way...anyhoo, first chapter.**

 **thewolf74: Thanks for the first review! Turns out reviews really do accelerate the writing process...**

* * *

 **1**

Quiet as an owl, she landed in a tree with a clear view of Hobbiton. Making sure to blend in with the shadows of the tree, she surveyed the quiet holes and the well-kept gardens until she found the door Gandalf had described. It was a green one, but what mostly interested her was the oddly blue glowing letter 'F' that had been placed on it. Figuring that must be the one where she had to be, she jumped from the branch she had been perching on and glided silently over to the hole, landing smoothly on top of it. Immediately, she vanished her wings, changed her colour in order to blend in with the dewed grass that covered the hole's roof and curled up just above the door. Lying flat on her belly, she paused for a moment and pricked up her ears, while at the same time looking out with her mind at the Hobbit below her, looking and listening for any sign that she had been spotted. With a small surge of relief, she convinced herself that Hobbiton was as quiet as it had been a minute ago and that the inhabitant of this particular hole continued radiating calmness and contentment as he prepared his supper.

Sure, had it been day, she wouldn't have been able to hide like this, but as the dusk had almost passed into night, her camouflage would suffice. Besides, if there was one thing she had learned in her life, it was that people rarely saw something they weren't expecting to see.

And they never, _ever_ , looked up.

Fine, two things then.

Judging it safe, she moved around a bit to get comfortable, curling her long tail around her until she could use the furry knob on the end as a pillow to lean her head against. She knew she was up for a bit of a wait and, trusting her ears to warn her in time when the first Dwarves would show up, went over everything Gandalf had told her a few days ago one last time.

 _She sits down in front of him and asks him what it was he wants to talk to her about. Gandalf walks her to a rock on the lakeshore and, after seating himself on it and letting out a sigh, commences with a lengthy talk._

 _He begins with a story about Dwarves, gold, gems and jewels. About a King whose love of gold had grown too deep and the sickness that had begun to grow within him. Eventually, about a dragon. About ruin, death and destruction. About a people without a home, ever seeking revenge on the dragon that had chased them out of their Mountain._

 _After having described the Blue Mountains in which they were now (temporarily) living, he pauses. She waits a decent amount of time, waiting for him to continue. When it becomes obvious he isn't going to, she says: "Lovely story, but I assume you didn't come all this way to tell me a tale. I don't see how this is all related to me."_

 _She thinks she senses a faint whiff of contentment, but she can't be sure._

 _The Wizard continues by telling her about the King of these Dwarves, Thorin Oakenshield. Though he does not say it out loud, Gandalf hints at him being the one who convinced Thorin to lead a Company to the Lonely Mountain and reclaim the Arkenstone (apparently a jewel needed to convince other Dwarves to join him, though she has never really understood the value of jewels, as they did not have a fae). And that, he says, is where she comes in._

 _She listens closely. He invites her to join said Company, in order to help the Company reach the Mountain. Knowing exactly what he needs to say to convince her, he barely hides a grin while saying this would be a wonderful opportunity to satisfy her insatiable curiosity about Dwarves and other things along the road._

Of course, she thought, there was no way she could have said no to that prospect. And, after having experienced the Dwarves up close and probably having had her fill of adventure for a while, she had already decided her next place to stay: Hobbiton. Even before having seen it, it had sounded like the perfect place to recover from exhausting adventures, while at the same time stirring a bit of life into the place.

There was one problem though. Gandalf had carefully explained that Dwarves were not fond of dragons, especially these particular Dwarves. Personally, she did not share that opinion at all, and had gotten rather excited at the prospect of seeing one. After all, she probably looked more like a dragon than any other creature she knew of.

Gandalf had managed to grab her attention again and his next words had cleared the joy right out of her mind. He feared, that if she showed herself with all her dragonish features, Thorin would be too blinded by his hatred for dragons to get a balanced opinion of her and would probably expel her from the Company without a second thought. So, he had (after much discussion) struck a deal with her. She wouldn't reveal herself fully until the first plains after Bree, and then he would do all he could to convince Thorin to give her a chance.

The reason she was currently lying on the roof instead of going in, was that Gandalf had decided it would be best for her to get a general idea of the Dwarves before they saw her. And he'd told her to wait for him to introduce her, for she looked so odd there might be panic if she strolled through the door without any preparation. So, she waited for the Wizard to arrive.

She was just trying to find some solace by telling herself that, although she wouldn't be allowed to let it out for a while, her fire still burned inside her, when she was shaken out of her thoughts by heavy footsteps.

The heavy _thumps_ stood out from the peaceful evening chorus of crickets chirping, cows mooing and the river running. Squinting her eyes, she tried to make out the shape of the Dwarf lumbering towards her. Even with her good night vision, she couldn't get a good look at him until he was less than five meters away from his destination.

It would have been easier to know who she was dealing with, if she could have used her mind to look. But as she knew lowering the boundaries of her mind would cause her eyes and the tips of her ears to glow in the dark, that wasn't an option. So she used her other senses instead. The Dwarf looked sturdy and straightforward. He smelled like a warrior, of sweat and blood, a scent that made her snout ripple and she had to keep back a soft growl. _Later into the night,_ she reminded herself, _you'll be able to get a good look at him with your mind. Until then, don't judge._

By now, the warrior-Dwarf had reached the green front door and, after having convinced himself that it was the right one by checking out the blue 'F', rang the bell. After a few moments, she heard the door open.

"Dwalin, at your service," she heard the Dwarf say.

After a pause, she heard the rustling of fabric and the Hobbit stuttering, "Uh…Bilbo Baggins, at – at yours."

As the Dwarf stomped into the hole, she heard Bilbo Baggins stammering, in an utterly perplexed voice:, "Do – do we know each other?"

She caught the Dwarf's answer: a simple "No", spoken as if Dwalin found it a rather preposterous question. She chuckled quietly, having a vague idea that not everyone had been informed there would be a meeting here tonight.

After the second Dwarf, a wise and friendly looking (and smelling) one with a long white beard, who introduced himself as Balin, that suspicion had gotten even stronger. At Balin's "At your service", instead of the correct "At yours", all she heard was a "Good evening". She had to give it to Balin; he reacted to the impoliteness with a friendly "Yes, it is. Although I think it might rain later" followed by "Am I late?"

"Late for what?" Bilbo asked. Clearly, Gandalf had not told him there would be a number of Dwarves standing on his doorstep. She wondered if he had told him she would come. She doubted it.

As she listened to the noises of Balin and Dwalin greeting each other (did they have to be so loud?), she kept waiting for Gandalf to arrive. Up next came two Dwarves at once. After the door opened she heard a small desperate whimper come from Bilbo, although she doubted anyone else heard. The two Dwarves now standing in front of Bilbo introduced themselves as "Fíli"(fair) and "Kíli"(dark), before bowing in unison with yet another "At your service".

"You must be Mr. Boggins!" Kíli said with a broad smile, but clearly the Hobbit had somewhat recovered from his initial shock and was growing bolder.

"Nope, you can't come in, you've come to the wrong house," he declared at once and made to shut the door. Sadly for him, Dwarves were a lot stronger than Hobbits and these two also seemed relatively young. They pushed the door back open without too much trouble, much to the Hobbit's bewilderment.

"What? Has it been cancelled?" Kíli demanded.

"No one told us," Fíli added, with a side-glance at who she now realized was probably his brother.

"Canc- No, nothing has been cancelled!" Bilbo said, starting to sound positively pissed off.

"That's a relief," Kíli said, before shoving the poor Hobbit aside. He and his brother marched into the hole without a second glance.

Listening to the ever louder growing noises inside, she started to get impatient and her belly rumbled. _If that Wizard doesn't show up soon, I'm going in to eat, introduction be damned_ , she thought. And she would have, had she not, at that moment, heard a commotion in the dark.

She pricked up her ears to hear a mass of Dwarves approaching the hole, with Gandalf trailing behind them. They made their way towards the door, their steps loud enough to wake up half of Hobbiton and the other half by their grunting and groaning. When they had reached the green door, they rang the bell. But instead of waiting until the door opened, they evidently decided Bilbo was taking too long and started a conversation of their own. Leaning against the door, they all toppled in front of Bilbo after he'd pulled, or rather, jerked the door open.

Hearing a lot of "Get off me!" and other, less polite comments, she chanced a peek and peered over the edge and into the hallway. Seeing eight Dwarves lying in front of the shocked Hobbit, she burst into laughter before muffling it by putting her forepaws over her snout. Fortunately, thanks to the amount of Dwarvish cursing in the hole, no one heard but Gandalf, who, upon seeing her shaking with supressed laughter, shot her a stern look before relenting. He gave a quick nod before stepping back.

"Before you all run to dinner," the Wizard addressed the Dwarves, who were getting to their feet, "I would like to introduce someone else."

Finally, having mastered her laughter, she opened her mind once again and took a second to take in the familiar feeling. Then, she lowered herself upside down from the roof and gazed into the hole.


	3. Two

**Author's Note**

 **So, here we are again. It's taking so long because I try to write one chapter ahead every time, to make sure the flow of the story is still right.** **As always, keep reviewing. It really helps!**

 **Anyways, on we go and for those who know it, happy St. Nicholas!**

 **Or as we say in the Netherlands, fijne Sinterklaas!**

* * *

 **2**

Their first impression of Skyfire were two large, curious purple eyes, looking at them while hanging upside down from the roof. Then she pulled back up and leapt gracefully down, turning to face them.

No one spoke. The only sound came from inside, as Dwalin, Balin, Fíli and Kíli came to the door, surprised by the sudden silence. Upon seeing her standing in the garden, they too fell silent.

In front of them stood the strangest creature any of them had ever seen. A head like a wolf's, although with longer, narrower ears and bright, expressive eyes. Her neck was covered in light sandy-coloured mane, which ran all the way down her shoulders and chest, before making way for a long, beige, slender body. Her feet closest resembled those of a cat, although with longer thumbs, which were vertical and did not make contact with the ground. As they continued staring, she swished a long tail with a furry knob on the end from side to side. All came together as a wild, odd, and unmistakably intelligent being.

A Dwarf with a two-pointed hat was the first to find his voice: "This- This is the extra magic you told us about?!"

She wheeled to face Gandalf, glaring at him. "Why did you tell them about me but not the other way around?"

Before Gandalf could answer, another voice was heard: "A female?!"

Turning back to the crowd, she saw Kíli had spoken. Her eyes changed from the orange of a sunset to a deep, dangerous red, causing everyone to jump. If there was one thing she hated, it was being judged by her gender. She turned her ears backwards, baring her teeth, while making a soft grumbling sound deep in her chest. It wasn't enough to appear outright threatening, but there was little doubt she could if she wanted to.

Gandalf, who was still standing behind her, discreetly pushed the bottom of his staff to her thigh.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Her eyes changed from red to silver, before turning white, with black holes for pupils. She opened her mind so they could all hear her thoughts. The tips of her ears glowed white, and they heard: **"** ** _Yes. And yes."_**

They looked at her open-mouthed, for she hadn't moved her mouth in the slightest. Yet they all heard her voice.

"What are you doing?" a brown-haired Dwarf asked whose eyebrows had been braided to be part of his hairstyle.

 ** _"What does it look like I'm doing, I'm speaking to you through my mind."_**

Her soundless way of communicating seemed to unsettle them, so she decided to switch back to audible communication. Her eyes changed back to their original purple. Ignoring the shocked gazes she felt burning, she turned to their host for the evening. "Skyfire, at your service," she said while lowering her head in what could be considered a respectful bow.

She waited politely for a reply.

When it became clear after a few seconds nothing could be expected from the Hobbit, who just stared at her with his mouth hanging open, giving the impression of a gloomy cave, she asked, "May I come in?"

That seemed to shake him out of his stupor at least a bit, for he moved aside so she could enter. She walked calmly past him, opening her mind so he felt her tranquillity radiating off her as she passed. Then she turned her thoughts to more important business: "You did leave something for the latecomers, did you?" she said, looking at the four Dwarves who had entered the hole first. They all gaped back at her. "Which way is dinner? I'm starving!" she continued, hearing her belly rumble in agreement.

At last, Fíli stepped aside, showing her the way. She hurried past him, following her nose towards the pantry which the first four Dwarves had begun to pillage. They all came after her. Once there, she tried getting to the shelves without bumping into things, but this proved to be a problem. She thought it better not to use magic for a moment, since the Dwarves were shocked enough already, not to mention the Hobbit, who looked ready to faint.

She tried, but her body was not made to carry stuff in such a cramped space. She was just too big to be able to walk around without knocking something (or someone) over every time she turned. After accidentally bumping into a grey-bearded Dwarf who seemed too deaf to hear any of her apologies, she decided to take a break in the hallway.

She sat down and let out a deep sigh. _Thank Goodness we'll be on the road tomorrow, I don't think I could live in this crowded place. Hopefully, the mountain will be roomier._ She listened to the sounds of the Dwarves transferring food from the pantry to the table and the Hobbit's futile attempts to prevent them to. Then some distant thumping caught her attention. It seemed to be coming from the cellar. She frowned and looked down with her mind. She spotted a number of faer there, but the biggest ones by far were two Dwarven ones. Carefully, she pushed a little further, trying not to let them notice her, until she managed to discern names: Fíli and Kíli.

She filled up the pads inside her soles, allowing her to sneak, silent as a cat, towards the stairs that lead down the cellar. A meter away, she changed the colour of her fur and eyes to match that of the darkness in front of her. Then she crept slowly forward until she could peer down into the cellar. Thanks to her good night vision, she was able to make out Fíli and Kíli trying to lift a barrel of what smelled like ale. Seeing how they would have to lift it off the ground and up the stairs, she thought, _They could ask for help_.

* * *

Kíli wiped the sweat off his forehead, taking a break from lifting the heavy barrel. Since there were now ten Dwarves walking back and forth between the Hobbit's dining room and his pantry, they had thought it a bit crowded and had decided to get the drinks rather than the food. So they looked around the hole and found the cellar, with some barrels of ale in it. After having taken the liberty of inspecting the ale, they were now trying to get it off the ground. The barrel turned out more difficult to move than expected. They hadn't even expected to find it here, as the Hobbit hadn't struck them as someone who held regular drinking parties. Or held parties at all, for that matter.

Fíli raised his head from behind the barrel and glared at his brother. "Do you mind helping?"

Kíli rolled his eyes, but reached out to grab the barrel again. As the two Dwarves struggled to get the barrel off the ground, they heard a soft snort.

The latest guest to their party tonight was standing in the doorway at the top of the stairs that led down into the cellar. She looked down at them with light brown eyes.

"You know," she said, "there is an easier way to do this."

Fíli was not in a good mood. The barrel was heavier than he had anticipated and now this strange creature was mocking them. So no one could blame him for saying: "And I suppose you would know this better way?" in a slightly patronising voice.

She was tempted to leave them to stew in their own juices, but if she did the barrel, and subsequently supper, would take ages. And she was getting impatient already. So, she simply flicked her tail, the knob on the end of it lit op and the barrel rose from the ground, wobbling a little in mid-air.

The two Dwarves gaped at the barrel in astonishment. For a moment they seemed too flabbergasted to speak. She gestured with her head, making the barrel float up the stairs without visible propulsion. It was followed by two very perplexed Dwarves. When they reached the top of the stairs, she and the floating barrel were waiting for them. They now noticed the knob on the end of her tail was glowing with a bright white light.

"What are you doing?" Kíli asked, voicing his and his brother's thoughts.

"I'm helping you. I saw you were having trouble getting it off the ground, so I took the liberty of doing so my way."

Fíli snorted, "We could have lifted it ourselves, you know. Easily."

She looked sarcastically at them. "Yeah, I saw. But this is a lot faster. Save your lifting for the next months, it'll be more use then," she said. "So, shall we join the others? I'm starving."

A little less stunned, they agreed, and insisted on pushing the barrel, so as to have at least some semblance of them doing the work. She liked them already.

"So, Fíli and Kíli, right?" she asked, as they took a right turn to the storage, in order to avoid the crowded pantry. There wouldn't be much space to squeeze either her or the barrel through there, not with Dwarves all over the place.

The two Dwarves gaped at her, eyes wide open. She could see them racking their brains to see whether they had slipped their names to her, and finding they hadn't.

"Did…did you hear that with your mind?" Fíli asked, eyebrows raised.

"No, I just eavesdropped."

"When?"

"When you came in."

She saw Kíli was ready to interrogate on, but now they had reached the dining room. _How am I going to fit in there?_ "Where do you want it?" she asked.

"Over there would be fine," Fíli replied, ignoring the open-mouthed gapes at the floating barrel. Her tail shone a bit brighter, and the barrel floated across the table and settled next to the fire. She followed it. Deciding she wouldn't squeeze herself along the table, she clambered over it, knocking over some mugs and plates in the process. Finally settled, she made up her mind not to leave her spot for the remainder of dinner.

Once they were all seated and the food on the table had her mouth watering, Kíli started again.

"But how did you hear us? There was no one around but us and our host over there," he said, pointing at the Hobbit who was looking miserably at the feast from the sidelines.

"I was lying on top of the hole," she said, trying to grab a very appealing tomato a meter away on the table.

"But why didn't we see you? It wasn't that dark and you're kind of…eye-catching?"

She couldn't reach the tomato. She huffed in annoyance, careful not to give her fire away, and lit up her tail again. She opened her mouth and waited for the tomato to come to her. It landed in her mouth and she bit down, painting her jaw blood red with tomato juice. Then she answered Kíli's question by placing her head on the table and changing the fur on it.

The Dwarves surrounding her gasped as they saw her head disappear into the table top, leaving only her purple gold-speckled eyes and the tomato juice visible. She lay still for a moment, before changing her colour again and reappearing. Then she lifted her head and dug into a bowl of pork standing left of her.


	4. Three

**7Author's Note**

 **Warning: long chapter ahead!**

 **I wanted to split it in half, but I couldn't find a good place to do so. Enjoy anyway.**

 **Please keep reviewing, I missed them last chapter. Surely my chat about Sinterklaas didn't scare you all away?**

* * *

 **3**

Later, she didn't remember much of supper. She'd been joined by Fíli and Kíli on either side and had since been swept along in a whirlwind of sights, sounds and smells, getting more light-headed as the evening progressed.

She remembered the fat one, Bombur she thought it was, catching an egg in his mouth and the other Dwarves loudly cheering their support. Clearly, catching food using one's mouth was considered quite a feat in Dwarven culture…

She remembered flying food around the table using her magic, much to the Dwarves' amusement and the Hobbit's horror…

She remembered the Dwarves throwing food through the air themselves, also to the Hobbit's horror…

She remembered Fíli walking on the table and handing out ales left and right. She was almost persuaded by Kíli to take one, but Gandalf shot her a look from across the table, so she lit up her tail and made the ale in her mug disappear. No one noticed, perhaps because they were all cheering and toasting, before emptying their mugs and then holding a burping contest. Now she understood why Gandalf forbade her to take one…

She remembered the Hobbit sitting all alone in his ravaged pantry, and asking Gandalf whether it would not be kinder to send him asleep. " _No,_ he said, _he needs to get used to them_ …"

* * *

After dinner, she decided to take a break again. She wandered the rooms until she found a quiet room filled with bookcases. But just as she was about to pick one called 'A History of the Shire and its Inhabitants', the volume of voices reaching her from the hallway increased rapidly. Reluctantly, she pulled her paw away from the book, took one last moment in peace and quiet before walking back into chaos.

The first Dwarf she came upon was Kíli, who was all but juggling the Hobbit's precious crockery. Somehow he did so without breaking them, before tossing them at a pepper-and-salt-haired Dwarf standing in the kitchen, who wasn't even looking at the plates he effortlessly caught. Kíli, in the meantime, had received a new piece of crockery from his brother who she saw standing on the other side of the hallway in front of the dining room, with Gandalf pressing himself against the wall in hopes of not to get hit by plates randomly flying around. The cycle endlessly repeated itself.

"Do you do this after every meal?" she asked Kíli, after making her presence known by moving into his line of sight and ensuring she would not be hit in the head with a plate either. Between throwing a plate and catching the next one, he glanced to the side and smiled.

"Sometimes. Only if the host agrees," he said.

She frowned at him and gestured at the Hobbit, who was trying to keep the Dwarves still sitting at the dinner table from drumming his knives blunt. "He doesn't look very agreeing to me."

Kíli grinned. "Then it's even more fun!" Then, after hearing two-point-hat Dwarf say, "You hear that, lads? He says we'll blunt the knives!", the dark-haired Dwarf started singing, while still passing on plates and bowls: "Blunt the knives, bend the forks!"

His brother heard him and joined in: "Smash the bottles and burn the corks!"

Now they all caught on and some even started dancing (or moving along with the rhythm, anyway): "Chip the glasses and crack the plates,

"That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"

She laughed along with them, and although she didn't catch the whole song, she didn't get the impression it really reassured the poor Hobbit. After a line about milk on the floor, Kíli surprised her by throwing her a bowl. Luckily, she had good reflexes and caught it, balancing it on the knob on her tail, before glaring at Kíli, though the effect was a little lost because she felt the corners of her mouth twitch up. "You couldn't have warned me?"

He grinned at her before catching a cup from his brother. He was now throwing the dishes from the most elaborate positions, including lifting a leg and throwing it through underneath it. "If you drop it, it's not my fault."

She smiled back, dropping her act of trying to look angry. "Do you drop them often?" she said, while flying her bowl over his head with a lash of her tail, right into pepper-and-salt Dwarf standing in the kitchen.

He shrugged. "Not anymore. I've had-" he caught and tossed another cup, now having stuck himself in the door frame, "-a lot of practice."

She chuckled, thinking it would maybe not be so hard for her to fit in.

Slowly, the oncoming flow of dishes thrown by Fíli became less oncoming, until it stopped completely. She heard cheering from inside and found all twelve Dwarves and the Wizard surrounding a pile of neatly stacked, clean dishes. They were all laughing at the Hobbit's disbelieving face. She had of course no choice but to laugh along. The Hobbit's face really was amusing.

Suddenly, three loud knocks were heard on the door, and all fell silent. The silence was broken by Gandalf: "He's here."

* * *

This time the Wizard opened the door, revealing a black-haired Dwarf that looked different from all the others. He looked burdened, like the world around him had done him great harm and he had never fully recovered from it. This had to be Thorin, rightful King under the Mountain and, more importantly, leader of this Company. She knew her place in it fell or stood with his approval.

"Gandalf," he said, "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. Wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door." While the Dwarf removed his cloak, the Hobbit and Wizard argued in the background about whether there was or was not a mark on the door. _There is, that's how I knew it was here_.

The Wizard introduced the two, and a lengthy conversation about the Hobbit's fight and survival skills followed in which she was not particularly interested. After a minute or so, she decided they'd have to do the rest on the road and poked at the Wizard's mind. **"** ** _When's it my turn?"_** she asked a little impatiently. She'd prefer a blunt refusal over this endless blathering.

 _"Yes, yes, I'm coming to that,"_ Gandalf replied, a bit annoyedly. He cleared his throat, diverting Thorin's attention away from the Hobbit, and beckoned her forward.

* * *

He saw her step from behind the Dwarves gathered in the hole, trying not to show any surprise about her looks. He had learned from years of experience that the most important part of a person were his eyes, and he was met by two purple-green mixed ones. They were very expressive, and he saw that she was both curious and anxious to meet him. Searching her eyes, he started piecing her picture together. She was proud, intelligent, independent and a bit stubborn. Yet he also saw a weak spot, one she tried to hide but, like a curled-up hedgehog, was still visible. He wondered if she would follow his commands blindly like the other Dwarves did, and read the answer he already expected from the depths of her eyes. No. He'd have to earn her respect, and her friendship, before she would obey him without discussion.

From the other side, she was met by icy blue ones, fierce, brave and intelligent. She perceived a hint of vanity and a strong sense of order and hierarchy in them. She also saw a darkness in those eyes, probably caused by the loss of his home and many of his family and loved ones. She doubted whether, even if they managed to reclaim the Mountain, that darkness would ever fully disappear. Faintly, she heard the Wizard introducing them, though neither of them paid much attention.

Their staring contest ended quite abruptly, as she turned her eyes brown. Thorin couldn't fully hide the surprise in his eyes, but his overall expression didn't change and after a moment he nodded gruffly and made his way over to the cleaned-up dining room, greeting old friends here and there.

She swiftly took a longcut and had squeezed herself in the darkest corner of the room by the time they got there, knowing the Dwarves would speak more freely if she wasn't so prominently present. The others sat down too, Fíli and Kíli on either side of her like before. She hissed shortly when Kíli stepped on her tail. He quickly removed his foot and she pushed her tail behind her, along the wall.

The Dwarves put a bowl of soup and a mug of ale in front of Thorin, and took one themselves as well. Except her, Gandalf, who needed to keep his wits about him, and the Hobbit, who was standing out of her line of sight in the hallway, though she could sense his misery through all the Dwarves' suspension. Thorin took his time for his food, heightening the anxiety all around him.

"What news from the meeting in Ered Luin?" Balin with the white beard said, voicing everyone's thoughts. "Did they all come?"

 _What meeting_ , she thought. _Why didn't Gandalf give me a bit more background information?_

"Aye," Thorin said, "envoys from all seven kingdoms."

There was a short murmuring of approval.

Dwalin with the bald tattooed head asked the key question: "What do the Dwarves of the Iron Hills say? Is Dáin with us?"

Thorin sighed. She knew the answer before he said it: "They will not come."

Murmuring of disapproval.

"They say this quest is ours, and ours alone." Thorin continued.

In all honesty, she couldn't blame these Iron Hill Dwarves. This trip was going to be pretty risky, getting to the Mountain without flying would take ages, not to mention the Dragon waiting for them once they got there. Maybe Erebor was best left buried and burnt. She doubted anyone could get that into Thorin's head, though.

"You're going on a quest?" Bilbo piped up. She hadn't noticed him coming closer and listening in to the conversation.

"Bilbo, my dear fellow," Gandalf said, perhaps to distract the Hobbit, since she could have helped him as well, "let us have a little more light."

The Hobbit hurried to get a candle and bring it back, while Gandalf spread out a map on the table. She tried to look at it, but it was too far away. Instead of clambering on the table again, which would divert attention from the map, she silently slipped between the Dwarves and the wall and stuck her head up between Gandalf and Dwalin, who quickly pulled his hand off the table. She looked at the map, and narrowed her eyes. Something seemed odd about it. She turned her head a little. On all the maps she had seen, not counting her own views from above, North was on top. On this map, she realized, East was on top and North was on the left. She resolved to ask Gandalf about his later. For now, she listened to his voice (saying far, far away in an elaborate way) and looked at his fingers, pointing at-

"The Lonely Mountain," Bilbo said, looming over the map and reading it. Above the Mountain, a small red winged serpent had been drawn, clearly added later.

"Aye," a red-bearded Dwarf said, next to Balin, "Óin has read the portents, and the portents say: it is time." _Portents? What, a bird flying east instead of west?_

Óin, the deaf, grey-bearded Dwarf she had bumped into before and was now holding an ear trumpet to his ear, explicated: "Ravens have been seen flying back to the Mountain as it was foretold: When the beasts of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the Beast will end."

 _See? Birds flying east instead of west. Tsss._ She barely held back an unimpressed snort.

"Uh," Bilbo hesitated, "what Beast?" _Really? What has this Hobbit been doing all his life?_

"Well, that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible," two-point-hat Dwarf said, "chiefest and greatest calamity of our age."

The Hobbit looked even more uncertain, so the Dwarf elaborated: "Airborne fire-breather. Teeth like razors, claws like meathooks. Extremely fond of precious metals."

"Yes, I know what a dragon is," Bilbo interrupted. _Not entirely from under a rock then, are you?_

A Dwarf wearing a knitted vest suddenly sprang to his feet. "I'm not afraid! I'm up for it. I'll give him a taste of the Dwarvish iron right up his jacksie!" He looked a bit drunk and, after a short cheering of support, was pulled back down by the Dwarf next to him. _I doubt he'd feel much from your Dwarvish iron up his… well._

Now Balin spoke up again: "The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us. But we number just thirteen-" _Fourteen._ "and not thirteen of the best. Nor brightest.

The Dwarves objected, thus proving his point with not very intelligent comments like: "Who are you calling dim?"

"We may be few in number," Fíli said, "but we're fighters. All of us, to the last Dwarf!" He banged his fist on the table to emphasize his point. _Yes, but-_

"And you forget," Kíli continued, "we have a Wizard in our Company." _And what am I, the neighbour next door?_ "Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time."

She looked at the Wizard with purple-golden eyes. _Did you now?_ The Wizard looked uncomfortable and embarrassed. He started stammering: "Oh, well, now, I-I-I wouldn't say that, I-"

The Dwarf who'd pulled the drunk one down earlier cut off his excuses with: "How many, then? How many dragons have you killed?" Clearly, he thought giving the Wizard a straight question would help him remember. _Too bad there isn't much to remember_. Playing for time, the Wizard pretended to choke on his pipe smoke, hoping that would distract the Dwarves from non-existing dragon killings.

But now they had smelled blood (or drank ale). "Come on, give us a number!"

Definitely ale. The Dwarves sprang to their feet and started vociferously depicting how they thought Gandalf had slayed dragons. Or how they would be slaying their Dragon, she wasn't sure. The chaos kept going for a few seconds, until Thorin rose and shouted: "Shazara!

Immediately there was silence. She didn't know whether the Dwarves actually understood him or that he just silenced them by appealing to their respect for him. Now he started speeching:

"If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumours have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look east to the Mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor? Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr!" he ended. The last part seemed to be a sort of battle cry, as the Dwarves started roaring again. She, however, didn't partake.

 _That's all good and well, but I doubt sheer strength will help us in defeating that Dragon. If an army of Dwarves was swatted aside and burned like flies, how can thirteen hope to defeat him? Or if we managed to steal the Arkenstone and get another army, then what? A dragon's hide is impenetrable, and as two-pointed-headed Dwarf said, claws and fire aren't exactly a picnic either._ She glanced at Thorin. _I hope you have a plan._


	5. Four

**Quick Author's Note**

 **Thanks to everyone who follows or favorited!**

 **Thanks also to the 151 visitors from December. And I suppose 393 views means people are coming back for seconds!**

 **Real quick one this time. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **4**

Balin didn't seem convinced either, though for different reasons: "You forget the front gate is sealed." Slowly, the Dwarves quieted down. "There is no way into the Mountain."

"That, my dear Balin," Gandalf contradicted, suddenly twiddling an ornately wrought key in his fingers, "is not entirely true."

There was a surprised silence, broken here and there by shocked gasps. She noticed Thorin's mouth was hanging open.

"How came you by this?" he managed breathlessly.

"It was given to me by your father, by Thráin. For safekeeping. It is yours now."

In front of fourteen pair of eyes, Gandalf handed the key to Thorin. She noticed even the Hobbit was looking interested now.

"If there is a key…there must be a door," Fíli broke the silence, voicing everyone's thoughts.

Gandalf nodded. "These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls."

"There's another way in," Kíli said, smiling. _Eh, let's not run through the forest too fast, lest you land atop a dead tree._

"Well, if we can find it, but Dwarf doors are invisible when closed." _To eyes?_ "The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map, and I do not have the skill to find it. But, there are others in Middle-earth who can."

Now that the Wizard had explained things, he moved on to more practical details, such as how they were supposed to get into the Mountain.

"The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. But, if we are careful and clever-" _Good luck with that._ "I believe it can be done."

"That's why we need a burglar," drunk Dwarf said. These Dwarves do have a thing with stating the obvious.

"Hm, a good one too," Bilbo chimed in. "An expert, I'd imagine."

"And are you?" redhead next to Balin asked.

Silence. The Hobbit didn't seem to realize the question was asked to him. He even looked behind him to see if perhaps some other Hobbit had wandered in, one with heaps of expertise in the field of burgling. When none showed up, he got confused. "Am I what?"

"He said he's an expert!" grey-bearded deaf Dwarf decided. "Hey-hey!" Amused, she noticed that even with his ear trumpet, he didn't seem capable of hearing well.

"M-me? No, no, no, no, no, I'm not a burglar," Bilbo said quickly, eager to restore his reputation as respectable and boring Hobbit. "I've never stolen a thing in my life."

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins. He's hardly burglar material," Balin said.

His brother agreed: "Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves." His words were followed by the Dwarves arguing again.

 _That's a bit harsh. It's not like you're mowed down the second you set foot outside your door_. She would have said so out loud, had she not detected a great flash of light to her right, followed by darkness before her eyes and a thunderous voice: "Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is." At those last words, Gandalf shrunk back to his normal self, head brushing against the ceiling. Slowly, her ears came back up.

"Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet," he continued in his normal voice. "In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose." _And I can't?_ "And while the Dragon is accustomed to the smell of Dwarf, the scent of Hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage."

She eyed the Hobbit. He didn't look so distinctly advantaging to her. In all honesty, he tried to interrupt Gandalf by spluttering indistinctly.

The Wizard sat down again. "You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this Company, and I have chosen Mr. Baggins. There's a lot more to him than appearances suggest. And he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know. Including himself." He turned to Thorin specifically. "You must trust me on this."

 _I can't blame him,_ she thought as she poked at the Hobbit's mind. _There's not much sense of adventure in there, and no bravery at all._

Thorin blinked a few times in thought. "Very well, we'll do it your way," he said then, ignoring the Hobbit's protests. He turned to Balin. "Give him the contract."

 _Hang on,_ she thought as two-point-headed Dwarf started the cheering again, _I think I'm not prominently present enough._ She started growling, softly first, then louder. The volume rose and fell and in the small space it sounded like thunder. She leaned forward, out of the shadows, locking orange eyes with Thorin. It didn't take him long to remember. "Both of them," he corrected himself.

Satisfied, she settled back down, shifting her gaze from Thorin to Balin, who pulled a contract from beneath the table. She watched as the white-bearded Dwarf stood and passed a paper to Thorin, who all but slammed the contract in the Hobbit's chest. Then Balin pulled a second out and looked at her. She lit up her tail, gently pulled the paper from the astonished Dwarf's hand and some ink from the quill he held up, and kept both suspended in the air in front of her. She read the paper, eyes flying from left to right. Faintly, she heard two-point-headed Dwarf talking to Bilbo, but she didn't really pay attention.

She'd just gotten to the part about how the profit would be divided (if any), when she heard a loud _thud_. She pushed the ink onto the paper in the shape of her name, then flew it back to Balin and looked to her right. _Now what?_

The Hobbit was laying sprawled on the ground. When she peered at his mind, his fae was flickering weakly, like a tired candle.

"Ah, very helpful, Bofur," she heard Gandalf say.

* * *

 _Well, that's the end of that,_ she thought. They had deserted the dinner room, and she was standing next to the Hobbit's knocked out form. She sniffed at his suspenders and purred softly. _He's still alive. I suppose Gandalf will bring him back._ She turned to Gandalf, eyes brown with a little dark green. **"** ** _Won't you? I don't have much knowledge of Hobbits."_**

He smiled at her. "Don't worry, I'll take care of him. You go mingle."

Her eyes turned lime green, but after a moment she nodded and sniffed the air. The Dwarves had spread through the hole after Bilbo's fainting, and she didn't want to accidentally bump into Thorin. He had accepted her only a little less reluctantly than he had Bilbo, so she decided not to go to the same room he was in.

She knew how he smelled, so she found him in the parlour with Balin, Dwalin and some more she didn't know the names of yet. She crept past them, through the hallway, and then she smelled smoke. Following her nose, she turned left at the end of the hall. There was the room the scent of smoke originated from. She peered inside.

Three Dwarves, Fíli, Kíli and the one with the two-pointed hat, all smoking pipes. _That's good._ She lingered for a moment, taking some time to come up with a strategy. Finally, she changed her fur to smoky grey, the same colour as the smoke they were blowing out, took a deep breath, and walked into the room.

She didn't make eye contact, though she could feel three pair of eyes on her. She walked to the gap in the ceiling where the smoke floated out, and looked up. Through the smoke, she glimpsed the stars, scattered across the black sky.

"What are you doing here?" two-point-headed Dwarf asked. It sounded rude, but when she glanced at his mind, she saw it wasn't meant to be. She turned towards them and sat down with a smile.

"This hole is too cramped for me," she told them honestly. "I miss the open sky outside."

She saw them exchange a look. She didn't think they truly understood, but they were Dwarves after all. They were probably used to cramped spaces, mining their beloved gold under mountains.

Changing the subject, Kíli said, gesturing to two-point-headed Dwarf: "Did you catch his name while on the roof?"

Two-point-headed Dwarf choked on the smoke from his pipe and coughed for a minute, while waving his hand at them to wait. They waited, and when he could speak again, he said: "On the roof? What, but how come we didn't see you?"

Instead of answering, she just changed her fur orange, green, blue and brown, before returning it to its original beige.

This time, two-point-headed Dwarf was wise enough to pull the pipe out of his mouth before the smoke could again go where it wasn't supposed to be. "How did you do that?" he asked in wonder.

She shrugged. "I've always been able to; I guess I was born with it,"

"And your eyes?" Fíli asked. "Can you change those too? I thought I saw so, but maybe I was mistaken…?"

She thought about that for a second. "Mmm…yes and no, I suppose. I can change them at will, but they change on their own as well." And to be ahead of their next question, she added: "They reflect my mood. A colour for every emotion, give or take a nuance."

"So your eyes tell us how you feel? Which colour means what?" two-point-headed Dwarf asked.

Her eyes turned to gold, with a little purple, and she smiled. She was enjoying these quick-fire questions. "I'm not gonna give everything away! Figure it out on the road."

They smiled good-naturedly, so she decided it was her turn. "I still didn't catch your name?" she said, looking at two-point-headed Dwarf.

"Bofur, at your service," he said, getting to his feet and bowing, pipe in hand.

"Skyfire, at yours," she said politely, bowing as well.

They chatted together for a few more minutes. She learned that Fíli and Kíli were indeed brothers, as she had presumed. Bofur had one brother, Bombur ("The fat one, but don't tell him I said that!"), and a cousin, Bifur ("The one with the axe in his head," "Whát?!"), who was also going on the journey with them. She realized he must have been the pepper-and-salt-haired Dwarf catching Kíli's dishes.

Bofur was about to give her a complete explanation about how all thirteen Dwarves were related to one another, but before he could start she felt a vibration beneath her feet and raised a paw to tell him to be quiet. Then she heard it too, a sound not unlike her growling from earlier, raising and falling in volume. This, however, sounded more like humming.

Now that silence filled the smoking room, the other three heard it too. They put away their pipes with an uncharacteristically serious look on their faces and the four of them followed the sound to the parlour, where the rest had already gathered, save Thorin, who walked in after them. The Dwarves made themselves comfortable, either sitting in chairs or standing up. She just sat down on the floor. Having learned it wasn't safe from being stepped on, she curled her tail tightly around her legs. All were looking into the fire, so she followed their example and gazed deep into the fiery heart.

Thorin started singing, very softly. When she looked at his mind, she was carried away to the places he sang about:

 _Far over the Misty Mountains cold,  
To dungeons deep and caverns old,  
We must away, ere break of day,  
To find our long-forgotten gold._

She heard the words behind the words, the feelings of pain and anger and loss he couldn't express any other way. One by one, they all stood up, except Bofur. They joined Thorin in the second verse:

 _The pines were roaring on the height,  
The winds were moaning in the night,  
The fire was red, it flaming spread,  
The trees like torches blazed with light._

All eyes were staring off into empty space, but their minds were not there. They were flying, over mountains and rivers and forests and into the past.

She was the only one still staring into the fire, eyes ablaze with a fire that wasn't reflected, but came from deep within her.

* * *

Slowly, the Dwarves came back and left the room, looking for a place to sleep. She was the last one there, now gazing out the window. The Dwarf song had only intensified the feelings that had plagued her since she had vanished her wings on top of the roof. She knew she wouldn't find any rest here, in this wretched cramped hole. Despite Gandalf's whispered protests, she opened the door and ran out of the house and into the night, a shadow among shadows.

The peaceful sound of crickets chirping in the cool night air was in sharp contrast with the storm of memories long pushed away raging inside her. She ran through quiet Hobbiton, hoping that, if she ran fast enough, those feelings of pain and loss wouldn't catch up to her, but of course they did.

She looked up at the moon. Never leaving her even when she didn't want to see him, he had been her only constant companion in her life, ever since - _No._

She shook her head, trying to drive the memories away. When she looked up again, the moon was blurry, mocking her by refusing to let her see him. Angry, she tried to blink away what she now realized were tears, but then changed her mind and let them fall. _Better now than tomorrow._

She found a group of cows, peacefully rechewing their cud. Cows weren't the most active of animals, and with their bellies full and no visible threat in sight, they didn't protest when a stranger needed a place to sleep for the night. She squeezed herself in between a brown one and a black-and-white spotted one, revelling in their warmth. Finally, she fell asleep, missing the familiar feeling of her wings on her back and her fire beneath her.

* * *

 **Bofur said it, we're off! Next chapter will be out of Hobbiton. Sorry for the long talks, but her thoughts say a lot about her personality, and that's going to be important in this story.**

 **All right, I could really use your help now. Getting all the way to the Lonely Mountain is going to take a while, and I don't want to jump from Trolls to Wargs like in the movie. So, I'm gonna need some inspiration for on-the-road interaction.**

 **Let me know what you think so far and I'd appreciate any ideas you might have for future chapters!**


	6. Five

**Author's Note**

 **So sorry it's taking so long every time, but I write best when the house is completely quiet, and it isn't very often. And school of course, who can't relate to that?**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **5**

The first thing she heard the next morning was: "Cook-a-roo-hoo!" from a rooster jumping down from the roost where he had spent the night. His crowing was followed by sleepy clucking from his six hens and the soft chirping of their chicks. The red line of the sun could be seen, peering above the meadows, gradually losing his shyness as he did every day.

She looked at the chickens, jealous and sad. Then she felt the brown cow she was lying against stir, and quickly got up. Cows were clumsy when getting up and on top of that they often dropped some cow pat they had been chewing the night before. She didn't fancy such a stinking shower, especially when she couldn't get it off like she normally did.

She stretched like a cat, yawned with the tip of her tongue curled up and her lips pulled back, and used her left hind leg to scratch behind her left ear. Then she looked around in search of something to eat. Bilbo's pantry had been ravaged last night, and she doubted any other inhabitants of Hobbiton would take kindly to her asking for some food. She would have to scrape together some breakfast herself.

An uneasy mooing grabbed her attention. She turned around and saw the brown cow standing, mooing for her calf, which came running back to his mother. She noticed the cow's full udder and smiled. She looked at the calf. He was young, very young. Probably no more than a few days old. The younger the baby, the stronger his mother's maternal instinct. It had been the same with – _No._

The calf stuck his head between the cow's hind legs and she heard slurping noises. When she smelled the milk he spilled over his nose because of his gluttony, she carefully made her way over to the other side of the cow. She made soft noises like a hungry calf, and walked like she was one.

Cows, aside from being clumsy and not active, were also not very smart. This cow was eager to get the pressure off her udder, and she didn't care whether her calf, owner, or someone completely else helped her.

She stuck her nose under the cow, picked a different teat than the calf had, and had breakfast.

* * *

She grazed among the cows until the sun had turned from red to a yellowish orange. Then she searched for Gandalf's big light. **"** _ **How far are we on your end? Are they up yet?"**_

It took him about a second to respond: " _They're waking. I'll put some speed into it, how about you wait just outside Hobbiton? Wait at the sign on the road that points to Bree. We'll be there in under an hour."_

 _ **"Deal."**_ She pulled back, beheaded a few daisies, and left the herd.

She knew Bree was east of Hobbiton, so she followed the sun as it climbed up the sky. Since Hobbiton was waking up and she couldn't be seen, it took her longer than it usually would cover the not-so-great distance. She had to crawl along fences, sneak through bushes and stay out of view of anyone who might look out the window. It annoyed her not to be able to just cross the roads and meadows in plain sight, but the fewer people who took notice of her, the better. She wasn't an easy sight to forget.

It took her just over half an hour to reach the East Road. When she found a sign that said Bree, she hid in the woods behind it. _Even if they miss me, Gandalf will be able to find me._ She sighed, realizing she'd have to wait again. She changed her colour and lay down, eyes fixed in the direction of Hobbiton, two yellowish brown orbs in the fresh green of the spring leaves.

* * *

After a while she got bored. She climbed up a tree and lay down on one of the branches above the road. Hind legs hanging down on either side, front legs under her head and her tail wrapped around the branch to prevent her from sliding off, she yawned and closed her eyes, trusting the noise of thirteen Dwarves and one Wizard to wake her.

She napped away an hour or two, surrounded by birdsong and squirrels.

* * *

She blinked her eyes open and lifted her head from the branch. She looked left, and saw the parade of ponies approaching. Each pony carried a Dwarf and the accompanying baggage. The only one without baggage was a horse, upon which sat Gandalf.

She watched them. _Nobody ever looks up_. Thorin was at the head of the queue, riding a chestnut pony, and looking ahead and not noticing her. _Tssss_. She hadn't even bothered to change her colour.

She lowered herself from the branch, holding onto it with her tail. She dangled in front of Thorin, eyes on the same height. He looked at her as she cocked her head to the side, looking at him with purple eyes.

"My dear, would you mind coming down?" she heard. Breaking gaze with Thorin, she looked at Gandalf, who had ridden forward from his place in the queue, clearly trying to keep the peace with the leader.

She turned, lifted her head so she could look Thorin properly in the eyes, and unwrapped her tail. She used her front legs as shock absorbers and landed on four feet, lowering her tail to just above the ground.

"Give her a pony," Thorin called over his shoulder, deciding she was not worthy of any more of his precious time. _Yet_.

But she had tested his patience enough for the time being, and sat down as the queue rode on, until Bofur slowed down beside her. Aside from his dun horse, he also led a seal brown mare with three white feet, heavily packed. "Here you go," he said friendly.

She smiled back. "I'll pass, but thanks." On his slightly confused look, she clarified: "Those with four legs walk, those with two sit. I have four, so walk I will."

Bofur shrugged. She neighed softly to the brown mare, who was looking at her curiously. The mare shook her mane in return and focused her eyes once more on Bofur, who had missed the short exchange of sounds.

She walked alongside him for a while, mind open and observing the Dwarves around her. Most were chatting away, some just looking ahead in peaceful silence. She broadened her view until she could feel every living being in a hundred-meter-radius. She loved spring. Animals and plants alike came back to life after having survived the deadly winter. Young animals were born and enjoyed the sun, while their parents gained weight by eating everything in sight.

She let the bright faer of the animals wash over her, until she burst with energy. She broke her peaceful walk along the trail of ponies and started jumping and caprioling about, chasing her tail and circling the ponies. Some rewarded her with a whinny and a buck, while the Dwarf on their backs held on tight. She slalomed between them, shooting left and right around them.

Suddenly she heard Thorin's grumpy voice yell from the front of the line. "Stop that!"

She felt fire climbing up her throat, but pushed it back down. It wasn't in her instinct to disagree with the alpha male. She returned to her place alongside Bofur, who was looking at her sympathetically.

"Don't worry lass, it's not you," he said. "Thorin's never too friendly, even to us."

She mulled that over for a second or two, then turned back to the Dwarf next to her. "So, before we were so rudely interrupted yesterday, you were going to tell me how you're all related?"

His smile morphed into a grin, and over the next hour, she was exhaustively educated on how Dwarven families functioned.

Thorin was royalty, with Durin as his forefather, and Fíli and Kíli were his nephews, his sister-sons. Because Thorin was of the line of Durin, he was King under the Mountain (once he had a Mountain to be king of) and since he didn't have any children, Fíli was his heir, with Kíli as spare. Brothers usually had a similar name, with Bofur himself as the exception: Bifur was his cousin and Bombur was his brother. They weren't from the prestigious line of Durin, but hailed from the Blue Mountains, "seeking their fortune," Bofur said.

Just when she started thinking only brothers from the line of Durin had similar names, she was disappointed when Dori, Nori and Ori came up. Ori, Bofur said, had orders to chronicle the whole trip for the history books, and Dori and Nori had come along to protect him. Ori was the somewhat rabbit-like Dwarf riding behind them, and she judged it an excellent idea from grey-bearded Dori and braided-eyebrows-Nori to guard him.

Then there were Óin and Glóin, who were also from the line of Durin. Óin was the healer of the Company, and it was rumoured, Bofur said, that he had personally delivered his nephew, his brother's Glóin's son, Gimli. Óin was utterly deaf, as she had experienced, but his brother helped him go about his business. Her eyes turned blue at that for a moment, but before Bofur could be sure he had seen it they turned back to purple.

The wise Balin and the tough-as-nails Dwalin were cousins of Óin and Glóin, and were close friends of Thorin. They were among the oldest Dwarves in the Company, although that didn't slow them down one bit.

After taking an hour to explain all this, Bofur leaned over to her, causing her to take half a step away from him. "Do you think he'll come?"

She stared at him for a moment, then peeked into his mind since she had no idea who he was talking about. Her eyes and the tips of her long ears glowed white.

Bofur made a face. "Could you not do that, please?"

 ** _What?_**

"Breaking into my mind like that. You know, privacy?" He waved his hand a little uselessly. But it did the trick. She pulled back and remembered some social rules from very long ago.

"Sorry. I've only had animals around me, and they never mind," she apologized. She hoped she'd gotten it right.

"It's all right," Bofur assured her. Then he frowned. "What do you mean, only animals? Why no people?"

She opened her mouth and closed it again. Her eyes turned blue and then an increasingly darker grey, before she turned it away. For the second time within twelve hours, old memories, painful and pushed away into a dark corner of her mind, came forward. She never lied, having neither learned nor needed it most of her life, but she didn't know how to evade his question since it was asked so straightforwardly.

When cornered, either mentally or physically, most animals chose between fight or flight. Flight, since it was less harmful than fight, was usually chosen by most animals.

But she wasn't an ordinary animal. She was torn between fight and flight, mind gone blank, only instincts remaining. She was leaning towards fight, and was preparing to jump with bared teeth, when she felt a push to her mind, momentarily distracting her.

Gandalf had kept a close eye on her (both a physical one and a mental one) and he sensed the conflict inside her, though he wasn't sure what it was about. Unlike her, he had however immediately grasped the consequences were she to harm Bofur. With all his might, he pushed her lingering mind towards flight, figuring it was the lesser of two evils.

He sighed, both from relief at avoiding a catastrophe and from doubt, as he was now second-guessing his decision to bring her along. He wouldn't always be there to keep her in check and he certainly could not always predict what would trigger her instincts to survive. He watched her disappear into the woods and convinced himself she would be back. Then he turned to explain to an aggravated Thorin that he didn't know what had just happened either, and try to convince him not to cast her out of the Company mere hours after she had joined it.

* * *

 **Edit: In the past chapters, I changed 'lifelight' to 'fae' as it is the Sindarin word for spirit. I found The Silmarillion in my father's bookcase and there's a dictionary of sorts at the back of it that I'll use from now on. Just to take away any confusion.**

 **I'd love another review!**


	7. Six

**Author's Note**

 **MareDattebayo: Glad you like it! Love's not on the planning (yet?) and I'm not spilling too much, but you might be closer about the humanoid form than you think...**

 **Consider this one a thanks for the review, it really made my day =)**

* * *

 **6**

Indeed she came back, but not before an eerie howling had echoed through the woods which gave them all goosepimples. They unanimously decided not to make any reference to her past, but Thorin had demanded some information, as he wanted to be able to predict how she would react to things. He didn't want them all walking on eggshells with the difficult journey still ahead of them.

Gandalf had said he couldn't offer such a manual and had suggested the Dwarf ask her himself, though he implored him to be careful about it. She had made it very clear she didn't want anyone prying into her past.

When she appeared between the trees again, watching them silent as a ghost, no one was sure what to do. Some ignored her, some watched her with wariness in their eyes, Gandalf was the only one looking encouraging. She waited with blue eyes, uncertain.

Kíli's cheerful nature saved her. He beckoned her with a friendly smile on his face. She moved to walk beside his dark bay pony.

"Are you into wages?" he asked her.

She eyed him with turquoise eyes. "Why?"

"We're taking wages on whether or not that Hobbit is going to turn up," he explained. "So far, Balin, Dori, Bofur and Gandalf think he will, the rest of us don't believe it. Want to give it a go?"

Her eyes had turned golden-brown. "No thanks."

He had to try. "Why not? Scared you're going to lose?"

Now her eyes were bright golden. "I am not! But what's the point of waging when I don't have anything to put in?"

His eyes widened. "You don't have any gold? It doesn't have to be, you can bet with anything of value."

She shook her head. "What would I have? Whatever I need, I take care of when I need it, and I don't have anything useless." She looked pointedly at the baggage packed behind him atop the poor pony.

He couldn't think of anything to say to that.

* * *

Winter was over, she had been scratching at her fur ever since the snow had begun to melt. But she couldn't scratch and walk at the same time, since she needed the claws she scratched with on the ground. She hopped on three legs for a moment, trying to keep up with the ponies while using her right hind leg to scratch at her shoulder, then called in reinforcements.

She raised her head to the treetops and sent a loud chirping sound upwards.

She got a weird look from Kíli, and more from the rest of the Company as four birds, two blackbirds, a crow and a sparrow swooped down onto her back and began plucking at the long beige hair sticking up from her back. She sighed with relief as the pecking beaks took away the endless itch.

"What are you doing?" Fíli called, gaping at the scene over his shoulder.

"I'm shedding," she said matter-of-factly.

They didn't seem to understand. "They pluck the loose hair from my fur and use it to build their nest," she clarified.

"But why are they sitting on your back?" Fíli asked again.

She frowned. Why didn't they understand? It wasn't that difficult, was it? "Because I asked them to," she said, slowly.

"What do you mean, asked them to? Birds can't talk!" He was quite convinced, too.

Incredulous, she shook her head and sent a hooting sound towards the trees.

An owl flew down on soundless wings and landed on her head, between her ears. He blinked his big black eyes at them.

"Of course they do. Every living being has a way of communicating, which could, in most cases, be described as a language," she said. Communicating with the world around her had always been part of her life, she didn't see why these Dwarves made such a fuss about it.

"So, you're saying, you can talk to anything around you?" Dori asked, who had apparently been tuning in to the conversation.

She looked at them with light blue eyes. They really didn't get it, did they? _How deaf must they be, how little must they understand of the world around them,_ she mused to herself. Well, she might as well explain things.

"Yes, but it is not just the sounds," she began. "It's also the way you move, your body language, the way you behave. Yet it's not as complicated as you seem to think, animal language doesn't have the endless nuances spoken language is so rich with. No conjugations, articles, unnecessary complications. Mainly emotions, some verbs and descriptions of situations, all woven together into sounds and behavings."

They seemed to be starting to grasp it. "So, how much can you speak?" Bombur asked. She was getting quite an audience, she noticed. Most Dwarves had come closer, only Thorin, Dwalin and Gandalf weren't focused on her.

"Let's see…most animals. I'm still having trouble with water animals and plants. Yes," she quickly said, before they could ask again, "plants have a language. But as it's not made up of sounds and goes terribly slowly, I'm still working on it."

"Any animal? So you could imitate, let's say, a nightingale?" That was Glóin, if she remembered correctly.

So, she made the beautiful whistling sound of a male nightingale, even though she didn't consider it very appropriate since nightingales always sang at night. She did it so well a female nightingale came at her, flying away again in confusion when there wasn't a male in sight.

Over the next hour or so, she was flooded with requests for other sounds. She made the sounds of every bird the Dwarves collectively came up with and then some. It was soon noticed, however, that although she knew a lot of birds, she didn't know their names. When the birds got rarer, she was forced to ask the Dwarf in question to think up an image of the bird in his mind, after which she always got it right. She could describe the plumage, habitat and feeding habits and oddities of any bird, from magpie to eagle to peacock, she just couldn't name them as such.

It struck them as strange, but Bofur had spread word of what had caused her to run off earlier and none of them wanted to be the cause of a recurrence.

She was just making the trumpeting sound of a swan, when she picked something up. She stopped in the middle of a call and turned her ears back, before turning her head.

"Wait! WAIT!" they all heard. They saw the Hobbit, Bilbo, clumsily running towards them.

 _Well, I'll be damned,_ she thought. She absolutely hadn't expected him to come. Her eyes were the colour of a blue sky behind thin clouds, and they had the same expression as his when he saw the swarm of birds on her back.

He ignored her and the stares following him for the moment and ran straight towards Thorin. Upon seeing the Dwarf's icy glare, he rethought his steps and turned left to Balin, who was watching him with a somewhat friendlier expression on his face. While the Hobbit stood panting, Balin, with the aid of double glasses, inspected the now signed contract.

"Everything seems to be in order," he declared at last. "Welcome, Master Baggins, to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield."

The Hobbit was a bit busy warily watching the friendly snorts from Balin's white mare, but smiled and nodded upon hearing these words.

Thorin was the only one still wearing his icy glare. "Give him a pony," he ordered, and turned his pony around to ride on, followed by the Company. They rode on, passing the Hobbit one by one, who was babbling that he didn't need a pony because he often did walking holidays around the Shire.

She sniffed at him in passing, both curiously and friendly. No, she still couldn't figure out what it was exactly what it was that had compelled him to run out of his cosy Hobbit hole and all the way here, but she hoped it would last for a while. She had absolutely no intention of listening to him complaining about the lack of comfort he was used to at home.

"…Frogmorton once – OOGH!" she heard behind her. Looking around, she realized Fíli and Kíli, wearing twin smirks, had ridden towards him on either side and lifted him up between them. Fíli pulled the chestnut mare he had been leading a little closer, and he and his brother deposited the Hobbit between the baggage on her back. She chuckled to herself, turning around so the Dwarves didn't see her laughing.


	8. Seven

**Author's Note**

 **Found myself with a morning off school and everybody out of the house, so here you go. The views** **hit 1,000 last Tuesday, so thank you very much!**

 **Let me know what you think and have an nice weekend!**

* * *

 **7**

After the spoils of the wages had been collected and most Dwarves had very unpleasant expressions on their faces, she sought out one of the Dwarves Kíli had said had betted the Hobbit would come, hoping they would be welcoming. She picked white-bearded Balin, as he had struck her as quite a tolerant Dwarf.

He said nothing as she came walking beside him, only glancing at the birds on her back (at the moment, a sparrow and two crows). They walked quietly for half an hour or so, until she turned her head and looked at him.

"So," she started the conversation, "what has coaxed you into this journey?"

He smiled (at least he hoped he did, the beard made it difficult to see) and there was kindness in his eyes. "I wish to reclaim what is ours," he said, though she felt like he wasn't completely sincere. But she attributed it to her lack of insight into the emotions and expressions of Dwarves, something she would have to correct soon.

"And what is yours?" she asked.

A shadow passed over his face. "Our home."

She felt she'd hit a nerve, and searched for a change of subject.

"And you?"

She looked to the left, trying to find an answer. "I am looking for a home," she said finally. It was the truth. Part of it, anyway.

He looked at her curiously, but she didn't dare go further than that.

* * *

Though she and Balin didn't exchange any more words, the silence they lapsed into was not uncomfortable. He didn't glance at her like some of the others did, when they thought she wasn't looking. And she was quite content to just walk alongside him, nickering to the horses every now and then.

She heard a strange sound, and turned her ears in an attempt to locate it. It came from behind her. Without slowing her pace, she turned her head and looked for the source of the odd scratching sound. It was familiar, an echo from years back.

She saw the rabbit-like Dwarf, she remembered his name was Ori, scribbling away in some book. From the movements of the quill, he wasn't writing. It looked like he was sketching or drawing.

He glanced at her, and upon realizing she was observing him, grew red and quickly looked down again. She noticed he had stopped moving his hand.

She stopped, letting Balin pass with a sympathetic glance and waited until Ori's bay gelding passed by. She walked at him, trying to peek into his book. She huffed in annoyance when she realized she wasn't high enough.

With a sharp chirp, she sent the birds off her back, rose on her hind legs and walked on them, keeping her tail out for balance.

She looked at the drawing and smiled. It was a rather good-looking drawing of herself as Ori saw her. Only her hind legs, back and tail were present on the image, and Ori had paid special attention to the birds on her back.

She smiled at Ori, who was anxiously awaiting her judgment, or just hoping she wouldn't bite him for drawing her. "It's good," she praised, "you've got a talent for it."

He relaxed visibly. "Thanks."

She lowered herself on four legs again, and asked: "So, why are you here?"

"I'm a scribe," he said. "I was ordered to chronicle this journey for future generations."

She already knew that, of course. Bofur had told her, but the question was a good icebreaker. She planned on using it again.

"Drawing me doesn't sound like chronicling," she said teasingly.

"Not you, specifically," he said, "the birds." He flushed a little. "I've never seen a bird up that close before. How do you do that?" She was half amused, half annoyed that he apparently thought birds more interesting than her, but decided not to remark. _To each his own._

"I promise them something back, if they do what I ask them to. They get nesting material without spending the energy needed to fly all over the place, and I get a reprieve from the itch."

"I get that you can talk with birds. But how do they know you won't eat them once they've pulled all your loose hairs out?"

She said nothing, and he continued: "How do they know you will hold up your end of the bargain?"

She opened her mouth and shut it again, realizing with a start that she didn't know the answer. How _did_ they? _She_ knew she would never break a promise, unless absolutely necessary, but how did every animal, even those she had never seen before, know it too?

She looked at him. "It's a good question," she said slowly, "and I don't know the answer."

There was silence for a minute. Then she sensed that his mind had moved on to other subjects. She prodded a little to see what that subject was. She grinned.

"Which one?"

"A jay would be great." He frowned. "But only if it's not too much of a bother?"

She let out the screeching call of a jay, and sure enough, the greyish brown bird with the blue touches on its wings came flying at her. She used a series of clicks and whirrs to communicate with it as it hovered in front of her, asking it to sit still for a while in front of the Dwarf next to her while she got it food. Then she nickered to Ori's mare not to shake her head for the time being, lest she shake the jay off.

The jay landed between the mare's ears, in front of a very astonished but happy Ori, and she disappeared into the woods.

* * *

She used her nose to sniff out some seeds and berries squirrels had hidden in the ground. She was careful not to take all from one hiding place, but two or three items from each, and far from each other. Were she to take all the food from one hiding place, the squirrel it belonged to would miss a very important part of his survival package after winter. She had no idea what the names of the seeds and berries were, but she knew from the similar smell what plant they belonged to. They smelled edible, so she didn't worry. Her nose had yet to fail her.

This sniffing and digging took her a about two hours. Not because it was so much work, but because she could use some peace and quiet from the bustling Dwarves. She could spend hours just looking at a flower opening its colourful leaves, never growing tired of it. She resolved to take her alone time regularly, for the good of both her and the Company.

When she came back, Ori showed her a very detailed drawing of the jay, who flew at her immediately and demanded its reward. She opened her mouth and let the jay perch on her nose, while picking chewed berries and seeds from between her teeth. This elicited yet another round of shocked gasps from the Dwarves. She was getting used to it by now. Only Gandalf knew that she had much more secrets to reveal, and he didn't even know all of them.

* * *

She decided to go inspect the newest member of the Company. The Hobbit was the last in the line of ponies (she had noticed the order was more or less determined by the individual's status in the group (read: Thorin's eyes) and the Hobbit was dangling at the very bottom), so she had to wait until seven ponies had passed her before she was finally joined by the Hobbit's chestnut mare.

"Hi," he said politely, but not very happily.

"Hi," she repeated.

She walked a little closer to inspect the Hobbit's furry feat. Never had she understood the two-legged's desire to clothe their feet in fabric. Any extra layer only dulled the sensations passed on from Arda to faer, sensations she deemed necessary to live. She was glad to see at least one two-legged shared her belief.

She decided not to ask him what had compelled him to come along, since she was fairly certain he didn't know himself, and she didn't want to remind him of his cosy/cramped Hobbit hole.

"Why don't Hobbits wear shoes?" she asked.

"Because we don't need them. The Shire is soft and green, and there is no reason for us to get our feet all sweaty by stuffing them in shoes," he said.

She sniffed at his feet. They were sturdy and leathery, and covered with long brown hair which tickled her nose and almost made her sneeze. She managed to keep it in with great difficulty.

* * *

The days were growing longer in spring. When the sun was starting to make his way towards the edge of the world again and turned a shade redder, Thorin called: "We camp here for the night."

 _Not a moment too soon,_ she thought. Her feet were getting sorer and sorer as the day progressed, and she was ready to stop for today. _I should ask Gandalf how much further it is to the plains._

She followed the ponies to the clearing where Thorin and some others had already dismounted. Thorin was doling out the tasks. Balin, Dwalin, Dori, Nori and Ori were told to unsaddle the ponies, feed them, after which Óin would check for injuries and treat them if necessary. Bofur and Bifur were sent out to gather wood for a fire, while Bombur was unpacking his bags from his pony, which contained pots and pans. Glóin waited for the wood to make a fire. Fíli and Kíli were told to scout the area, and Thorin oversaw the whole operation.

She sat down, giving Thorin the opportunity to task her with something. Behind her, Bilbo all but tumbled off his pony. Thorin paid no heed to either of them. She shrugged, and went to inspect Bombur's cooking. After deciding she could do without it for the time being, she sauntered into the woods, in the opposite direction Fíli and Kíli had vanished to, and took some alone time.

The farther away she was from camp, the faster she went. At last she was running, flying between the trees like the wind. She had always been fast, the fastest of all, faster than _– No._

She lost her footing as her right foreleg stepped into a rabbit hole and rolled on for a few more meters, before coming to a stop against the great trunk of a tree. She looked up and realized it was an oak tree, causing memories to wash over her again. _No, no, no, NO!_ She shook her head and clawed her way up the trunk, stopping only when there was no more tree to climb.

It was a tall tree, and from the thin branches she trusted to support her weight, looked up. Above her there were only the stars. It was a new moon, for which she was grateful. The stars blinked at her, but there was no great smirking, shining moon to mock her. She lowered her gaze and looked around her. All she could see was a canopy of leaves, as far as she could see. It was oddly comforting.

She felt fire climbing up her throat, but pushed it down again. As much as she wanted to let everything out, she had made a promise to Gandalf. And she didn't break a promise.

She climbed down again when she heard her stomach rumbling, reminding her that she hadn't eaten anything but cow's milk and some plants here and there. She sniffed the air, smelling a rabbit colony not far away. She carefully made her way over, hid behind a bush downwind, and picked her victim.

One of the rabbits was grazing too close to her. It was a male, and he was in the prime of his life. A bit skinny perhaps, but fat enough to quiet her stomach for the night.

Her unique ability to communicate with animals had given her a great understanding of them. She respected and liked them, but she was an omnivore. She had sharp canines and claws, and she hunted animals to eat them. As such, she did not have feelings of guilt when eating an animal she had talked with hours ago. She understood it was the way of things and, on a subconscious level, so did her prey.

That didn't mean her food walked into her mouth on its own accord, though.

She pulled her hind legs under her, shifting, getting ready to jump. If she didn't choose the perfect moment, all her effort would be lost. The rabbit would escape with a flash of its white tail, and she would be left with nothing.

She tensed her muscles, waited for the rabbit to take another mouthful of grass, and leapt.

All around her, rabbits dashed away to their holes, their white tails flashing warnings to the others. That warning came too late for her chosen prey, though. In one leap, she was onto him. She put a paw with outstretched claws on his back so he couldn't run, pierced his skin with her teeth and snapped his spine with one bite. His fae was gone before his body could take two steps.

She consumed her kill there and then, feeling no need to take it back to camp. With the rush of making a successful kill still surging through her body, she started to go back. She stopped at a creek, drinking away the blood. Her reflection looked back at her. _Is this a good idea?_

Without making a sound, she entered the camp, where she found Gandalf as the only one awake. Bofur, who seemed to be on watch, was sagging against a rock, fast asleep. _No sleeping for me here._

Her eyes must have been blueish, for Gandalf made a whistling sound with his staff, her cue to open a connexion with him. He couldn't do that himself.

 ** _"What?"_** she said gruffly.

 _"Are you all right?"_

 ** _"Fine,"_** she huffed.

He clearly didn't believe her. But could she blame him? He thought the problem was that she was forced to hide a part of herself, and she wasn't about to tell him otherwise.

 _At this rate, we will reach the plains the day after tomorrow,_ he said. He reached out a hand to comfort her, but she turned away from him. _Never will I tell anyone._

Out of instinct, and with a faint hope that they would understand it and not bother her, she dug a shallow hole at the foot of the tree she had chosen to spend the remainder of the night in. She dropped her poop in it, covered it with earth again, and peed on the trunk, close to the ground.

She climbed into the tree, picking a low branch and hung down, upside down with her tail wrapped firmly around the branch. She yawned, and slipped into a restful slumber.

* * *

 **Edit: I wasn't completely satisfied with the lenght of the chapter, so I added some.**


	9. Eight

**Author's Note**

 **Tiny spoiler for this chapter: we reach the plains after Bree!**

 **8**

The song of a blackbird woke her the following day. She yawned and stretched, then got on the branch she was hanging from by using her tail like a grape plant uses its tendril, coiling on itself and pulling herself on the branch. There she lounged for a while, observing the sleeping Dwarves and Hobbit. Gandalf wasn't there, he was probably away on some business of his own. He would be back, though, before the rest awoke, so they would never notice he had gone.

She practiced the names in silence for a time, while birds all around her started to wake up and began their morning song. When she thought she'd gotten all the names right, she looked at their minds. Were they dreaming? What did they dream?

The sun was too high for dreams, they had all gone hours ago. The members of the Company were all dozing and wouldn't take long to wake up. As she looked longer, she began noticing things. Little things, but they gave her insight into their lives and relations nonetheless.

Most were sleeping together, some alone. Bifur, Bofur and Bombur slept close together, and all three had peaceful expressions on their faces. Bombur snored, the others grumbled every now and then.

Dori, Nori and Ori were about the same, close together with Ori in the middle. Dori, she noticed, slept with his face towards Ori, Nori was facing away.

Balin and Dwalin were silent as rocks, save for their loud breathing. It was almost as loud as Bombur's snoring, especially Dwalin's!

There was not much to remark on Óin and Glóin. They slept apart, both snoring, Óin the loudest (probably because he couldn't hear it anyway).

Bilbo, the Hobbit, was curled in on himself, with a miserable expression on his face. The lack of featherbeds seemed to be hard on him. She would have asked Gandalf why he'd brought him, if he hadn't been Gandalf. There was always a reason to everything he did, and though she didn't always agree, she respected his decisions because he was much older. His fae was huge.

 _And thinking of..._ The Wizard came marching into camp, every other step marked by the tap of his staff on the damp ground. His gaze went first to the sleeping Company, doing a headcount and confirming everyone was there. Then he turned to her, glad to see her already awake. She made a soft grunting noise to greet him, ears forward and eyes golden. Then she turned back to the Company.

Fíli and Kíli were both sleeping. Kíli's bedroll was tangled all about him, and she foresaw some trouble for him getting up. Fíli was on watch, though there wasn't much watching involved. He was as asleep as the rest of the Company. She flicked her tail before shifting her gaze to the last Dwarf.

Thorin was the only one not sleeping quietly. She could see he wasn't having a nightmare, but his brows met above his eyes and his hands were clenched into fists. She looked, but couldn't look further without waking him up.

A soft whistle to the left caught her attention. She opened a connection between her mind and Gandalf's and listened to what he had to say.

 _"Don't wake them,_ he warned, _they'll be intolerable for the rest of the day if you do."_

She frowned. **"** ** _How did you know I was considering that?"_**

 _"I've known you longer than they have."_

She grunted some, but obeyed.

Apparently the grunting was louder than she'd intended. Fíli awoke, his hands gripping his swords before his eyes were well and truly open. She made another grunting noise, drawing his attention towards her and assuring him there wasn't any danger. Not that he would have noticed it.

She walked away from the trunk, teetering dangerously on the increasingly thinner branch. When she reached the part where the leaves began, the branch began a creaking descent towards the ground. She waited until it touched, then stepped of lightly and walked over to Fíli. The branch swung back behind her.

"If the watching abilities of everyone here are as good as yours, why do you even bother?" she asked.

Fíli looked at her with something of resentment in his eyes, while sheathing his swords and stretching. Maybe she'd been too direct.

"Sorry," she remedied. "But if you are asleep, I can't be."

He relaxed, but looked over at his uncle's sleeping form before answering. "I know. But there's hardly anyone who can stay awake at night. It's so boring. And the worst thing is, you don't notice you're falling asleep, until you're woken."

She looked at him with green-orange eyes. "You don't notice anything when you're asleep?"

"Do you?"

"Most of the time, yeah."

For her it was part of everyday life, but she had learned long ago that her having two ways of sleeping was rather unusual, but very handy. She explained it to Fíli.

"I can sort of slumber, then I'm aware of everything around me, but I don't dream. And actual sleeping what I'm guessing is what you do, dreaming and blind and deaf for the world around you. I can get around with slumbering every night, but every once in a while, I have to really sleep. Slumbering breaks me up after a time, but I only sleep when I feel safe. When there's no one awake, I don't."

Fíli's brows were meeting. "How long exactly is a while?"

"Oh, every two weeks or so."

His eyes widened. "You can go on for two weeks without actual sleeping?"

"Yep." She didn't tell him there was another reason she didn't sleep unless she had to.

He clearly didn't believe her. Thus far, they hadn't believed anything she said without solid proof. The rest was waking up.

"Look, sneak up on me one of these nights and if I wake up, you'll know I'm telling the truth."

"All right."

* * *

They left without having breakfast (they ate on their ponies), so she snacked on some plants alone before joining them. The day passed similarly to the day before, she chatted away with the Dwarves as she walked beside them. Thorin called out: "We camp here for the night," and the Dwarves set up camp. She watched as Óin and Glóin made a fire. All the flailing with tinder and kindling struck her as very cumbersome, though she helped gather firewood.

The next morning she was up early and disregarded Gandalf's orders from before, waking them all at the crack of dawn. She couldn't wait to reach the plains. She walked beside Kíli, who noticed and commented on her excitement. She said nothing.

As soon as they were out of the woods and she saw the waving grass plains before her, she let out a trumpeting bellow and raised her head to the sky.

* * *

He gasped for breath. Two creamy white wings had sprouted from Skyfire's back, swiftly unfurling to their full span of four meters each. They were similar to a dragon's, with a thin membrane stretched taut over five ribs, the fifth was the edge.

He watched stunned as they rose, throwing shadows over him. Before anyone had recovered from the shock, she slammed them down.

* * *

Her heart felt like it would jump out of her chest at any moment, willing her to go faster and faster, up and up and up. She was spinning, beating her wings to go higher without any regard for flying straight. This was where she belonged, with the wind under her wings and closer to the sun than anyone else could possibly go.

When the sun became too bright and began stinging in her eyes, she levelled off. She looked down and saw a line of ants, tiny from her perspective, which she knew were the Dwarves. She couldn't see it, but knew they were probably gaping up at her. She was even too high to sense their emotions.

Once she'd caught her breath, she began spinning, somersaulting, and performing other acrobatic tricks she didn't know anyone besides herself capable of pulling off. She zipped with vertical wings, one down and one up, making the circle she was describing ever smaller, until there was no more circle and she was spinning in place with her wings wide. Once she began plummeting, she pulled back up and glided for a minute, enjoying the feeling.

Then she felt fire climbing up her throat and finally, _finally_ let it out.

* * *

He saw her shooting through the air like a fish through water, and was consumed by contradicting emotions. First of all the anger for the Dragon that had deprived him of his home. As he saw her tumbling through the sky he saw embers flying through the air above a burning city, and his ears were filled with the wailing of children and women and the terrible screaming of those whose bodies were melted alive. Above all, he heard the bellowing and the whoosh of air as the Dragon swooped down, bringing fire and death with him, and then invading their Mountain, trampling their brave warriors like they were nothing but bugs.

He turned to Gandalf, as it seemed now clear to him he was the one responsible for bringing her into his Company.

"A dragon?" he asked, voice shaking with rage.

"Not a dragon, Thorin," Gandalf responded, his calm voice piercing through the red haze before the Dwarf's eyes. "She is not Smaug. Try to see beyond your hatred and give her an honest chance. You won't regret it."

That was the other side of the coin. He had seen the first drops of her lake of capabilities, and he had to admit he was curious what other secrets she held. She certainly was an asset to his Quest. No matter how much confidence he tried to show in front of the Company, deep down his heart sank when he looked at them. Loyalty, honour, a willing heart indeed, but those had not been in short supply in Erebor. Balin's words were gnawing at him. A dragon was a more than formidable opponent, and he would need all the help he could get. But why did she have to be so much like a dragon?

He looked up and to his shock, saw her breathing a cloud of fire, then diving into it. He felt fire raging all around him as he hid behind a pillar and saw children's kites being swallowed by the flames. But then she came out on the other side, unhurt and somersaulting, and doubt began to form in his mind.

* * *

She heard Gandalf's enchanted whistle and knew it was time. She relaxed her tail and pulled her left wing to her side, causing her to fall sideways with her tail trailing behind her like a tail on a kite.

She plummeted down, all limbs relaxed so that her body was twisting as she fell, seemingly out of control. She closed her eyes, waiting. She didn't need her eyes for this part, she just enjoyed the air whipping past as she approached the ground.

She felt the familiar shiver sliding up her spine, and stretched out her tail, angling herself into a nosedive. She opened her eyes again, waited, and judged it the right moment. She snapped open her wings and bent her wingfingers, shifting her tail so her legs were lower than her head, and landed front feet first on the ground.

She took a moment to calm down, then raised her head and looked into Thorin's icy blue eyes. Her own were black. She could have folded her wings and tucked them against her sides, but she decided against it. She kept them open for all to see.

* * *

He looked at her. Her eyes were black and piercing. He couldn't deny that he was impressed, he realized she had been in full control during every moment of her flight, including the plummeting at the end. Somehow, she'd known exactly when to pull up so she didn't crash into the ground. He realized she was talking to him. He knew he was the only one who heard her words, and her voice was deeper than it had been when he had heard her speak.

 ** _"This is who I am, and I will neither change nor hide it. It is now up to you to accept me or send me away. If you choose to expel me from your Company, I will leave. I will not hold a grudge, nor hinder you in any way. But let me stay, and I will help you in any way I can. I will give my life for yours if need be. The choice is yours alone."_**

He took a deep breath, looking into her eyes. They were black, but restless as the ocean. He knew she had spoken the truth. He also knew it was not a promise made lightly.

He was the first to look away, and nodded. Her front legs left the ground and she rose vertically, three meters tall, wings spread. She roared, and breathed a column of fire over their heads.


	10. Nine

**Author's Note**

 **A few weeks ago, I entered the selection for Veterinary Medicine in Utrecht. Over a thousand applicants, 225 places. My head is still ringing with osteoblasts and different sorts of cartilage. I'll get the results half April. Fingers crossed.**

 **Next week will be full of pretty important tests, Math tomorrow. Now my head is ringing with limits and goniometry.**

 **Don't expect too much from me.**

 **Although I might be able to sneak in a chapter after the tests.**

* * *

 **9**

She was high between the clouds, letting the air currents under her spread wings carry her. She couldn't believe it had gone that well, having at least expected a heated argument and possibly Gandalf interfering. None of that had happened, though Thorin still wasn't very happy. She'd checked his mind before flying overhead and up into the sky. It was dark as a thundercloud, and she didn't know whether lightning or rain would come first.

She had to make it up to him somehow. She might understand little of Dwarf-culture, but she was very familiar with the principles of leadership. She knew Thorin accepting someone so dragonish had done a hard one on his position within the group, and she would have to somehow take away any doubt of him being the alpha.

She reflected on what she knew of Dwarf-culture. They loved gems and other shining stones, and…um…they were…short?

 _Great start._ Emphasizing their lack of length probably wasn't the way to go. Couldn't she do anything with gems? _What's the difference between a gem and a smoothed river stone?_ She didn't have the faintest clue.

She groaned and let out a gout of fire. Fire-diving always helped her clear her mind. She angled herself into a dive, and looked at the swirling patterns inside the fire-cloud. Her eyelids were started to fall…and she jerked them back open.

She pulled herself to a halt, gasping. As she watched the now unused cloud slowly vanish into the white clouds, an idea took shape inside her head. That was it! She didn't have to _find_ a gemstone…she could make one herself.

 _All right, where to start?_ She started by slowly angled herself down, following the river until she found a winding where the river had cut itself a way through the hard rock. A rock had strength, she knew, but a river had time. Even the strongest rock would eventually yield to a merciless river. And in doing so, it laid itself bare.

She landed smoothly, glanced at the sun and decided she had plenty of time. The river was shallow, but when she stepped in she could feel the strong current.

She flopped into the cool water and splashed around for a time. One of the best things of not having to answer to anyone but herself was that she didn't have to worry about other opinions. If she went to a stream to drink, started back, and halfway decided she hadn't had enough and went back, there was no one to blink an eye at it. She ate, slept, and did whatever she wanted whenever she wanted, and she didn't have anyone to reckon with but herself.

It was also safer not to get attached to anyone. She'd have to bear that in mind.

When she was thoroughly soaked with river water, she shook her fur, sending most of the water out and leaving her fur damp. She could have evaporated it, but the day was hot.

She drank some water and then returned to why she had landed here in the first place. She looked around, looking for a nice-looking stone. She found several promising ones, but once she dug them out, there always seemed to be something imperfect. A dent here, a jut there. Or not even coloured, or with a rough surface. Finally she found one though, an apple-sized light-grey stone. She judged it would fit snugly in Thorin's hand.

She cleaned the pebble, washing the dirt off until it shone. She brought it ashore to let it dry in the sun, when she saw something shimmer that wiped all thoughts about the river stone clear out of her mind.

The grey stone dropped and forgotten, she walked over. The river was thirsty, so at its outer bend was a steep, sloping shore. She approached the shimmer until she realized it was a stone, reflecting the light of the afternoon sun. She scratched at the dry dirt until it rolled out and stopped at her feet. Then she picked it up and brought it back to the water.

Once it was clean, she set it down to take a good look at it.

On one side, the stone was nothing special, looking just like the next. It was when she flipped it upside-down that it revealed itself. There was a crack in it, and from that crack shone dark blue spots, catching the light and sending it out again tenfold. It was almost as if the inside of the stone was from the depths of the sea. She was mesmerized by it, leaning forward, half believing that touching it would transport her to where fish swam.

She came closer. What was that little…speck in there? It seemed to be calling out to her…

Her nose was millimetres away from the stone's surface. When looked upon this closely, it wasn't blue anymore, was it? It was green like fresh leaves, yellow like the sun…red like her fire.

She touched the surface.

* * *

She hid the stone in a hollow tree. It was strange, but she didn't think she'd have any trouble finding it back. Somewhere on the edge of her mind was a pull, leading into the direction of the stone. She had given of herself to it and thus, it was connected to her.

When she walked into camp, she made sure to do so in a submissive posture. Ears flat and back, lips pulled back and tail between her legs, causing her back to arch. She had long ago unlearned licking the chin of an alpha two-legged. She kept her head down but held her eyes on Thorin, searching for acceptance. Or at least not condemnation.

It was somewhere in between. There was incomprehension, but no rejection. She walked to the edge of camp, ignoring blank looks from the others, circlefired her place and lied down. She shuffled a bit until her wings were comfortable, head down. Her eyes were closed, but her perked up ears told everyone she wasn't asleep. She heard Thorin take third watch. _Good._

She started smoking, long trails of black smoke rising and vanishing into the blackening sky. She heard Dwarves whispering around her, probably looking or pointing at her. She ignored them. Thorin was the only one she needed to worry about. The others would do whatever he told them to do. _Sheep._

Bombur was cooking, but his soup, stew, whatever it was, didn't stir her stomach. She smelled some herbs, plants, other greens. No meat. They clearly hadn't hunted.

She started dozing off, distantly aware of the Dwarves eating and then settling down for the night. She opened her eyes when she felt the whoosh of a bedroll being unrolled. When she looked left, she looked into Kíli's brown eyes, and Fíli's blue ones right behind them. She yawned, giving them an unnervingly close study of sharp teeth surrounding a curled-up tongue. The curiosity disappeared from their eyes to be replaced by nervosity, again switching to curiosity when she kept her tongue dangling from her mouth and looked like an enthusiastic puppy. Together with her purple eyes and long ears she made quite a sight, not to mention the rest of her body, long tail and great wings and all. She fanned them, stirring the air and subduing the smouldering campfire. Then she folded them back in, rolled onto her side and curled her tail around her, creating a barrier between her and the Dwarves but looking over it.

Her eyes roamed through camp and rested on each Dwarf in turn. Her eyes followed theirs as they closed, one by one. When they were all closed except for Glóin's who was on first watch, she stood up silently and crept out of camp, staying close to the ground. Thankfully, Glóin's watching eyes weren't directed at camp but at the darkness around it.

Once she thought she was far enough away, she took flight. She hadn't eaten from Bombur's cooking pot; it didn't look very clean. And there had been no meat. She decided to remedy that.

She thought of chasing down a bird, but she didn't feel like plucking it before eating. She needed an easy meal without too much of a bother. She landed in a clearing and sniffed around. Once she found what she was looking for, she vanished her wings and followed the path her prey had made.

She stalked for half an hour or so. The scent indicated her prey was about four kilometres ahead, a distance more easily covered on the wing but the forest was too dense to land. Silently, that is. Deer were easily spooked.

The scent grew stronger, and her pace grew quieter, until she came to a stop and dropped onto the cold earth. She changed her fur to match the dark greens surrounding her and switched to her eyes, where she had previously relied on her nose.

She focused on movement. A herd of five, a buck and two does with their calves. The calves were very young, too young to survive without their mother. Killing one doe would equal killing two deer. She dismissed the does from her thoughts.

That left the buck and the two calves. The calves weren't much fat yet, just bone. One wouldn't fill her stomach, and two would be too great a loss for this small herd. The buck wasn't very fat either, but bigger, and the velvet still covering the antlers was a treat. The velvet would disappear once the antler was fully grown, which would be in a month or so. _Now or never._

Having picked her prey, she moved towards him, not letting the rest out of her sight either. If one of them were to spot her, they'd all run.

She was behind a bush now, two meters away from the buck. He didn't see her, but raised his head every now and then, checking for danger. She waited for his head to lower to the green grass again, before pouncing.

She leapt, and all deer spurted away from her, into the forest. Her chosen prey did the same, but he had hooves and she had claws. She was faster than him on the short distance, but his stamina was better. If she couldn't catch him at her fastest, he would outrun her and she would lose him.

She squeezed the last bits of speed from her legs and jumped onto his back. Digging her claws into his flanks to hold on, she closed her jaw around his neck, feeling him clawing for breath as she crushed his windpipe. The buck soon collapsed from lack of air but she didn't let go until she felt his frantically beating heart come to a halt beneath her left forepaw. Then she slid off him, catching her breath.

* * *

She ate the most delicious bits, leaving the rest to scavengers. After she cut open his belly, she ate up his heart, liver and the four sections of his stomach. She smashed a rock on his head to crack the skull open, allowing her to slurp the juicy brain out of it. Then she broke off his antlers and used her rough tongue to scrape of the velvet off one. The other she dragged back to camp, hiding it next to the stone she'd put there earlier.

She looked at the moon, realizing Bifur (if she remembered correctly) was still on second watch. But the moon had only to shift a little bit and it would be Thorin's turn. She waited, deciding now was a good time to wash herself.

When she was done, she looked up again. The moon had shifted far enough, Thorin was on watch and everyone else was fast asleep. She took a deep breath. _Now's as good a time as ever._

She walked into camp, making sure to make enough noise not to startle Thorin, but not to alert anyone else. The Wizard was there, but she wasn't sure he was awake or not. Didn't matter.

The dark-haired Dwarf seemed asleep, but a quick glance at his fae told her he was not. She had the stone wrapped in her tail. She positioned herself in front of the Dwarf who was gazing at her with his iceblue eyes.

She started to say something but reconsidered. She had no idea what to say. So she curled her tail about, revealing the stone. She pushed it towards him with her nose, colourful side upward, then looking up and almost into his eyes. She kept her gaze away from those icy pools.

She hoped Thorin would accept the stone, but feared it would look like a mere trinket in his experienced eyes. For all she knew, this could be the most precious stone in all of Middle-Earth. Or it could be worth less than a broken sword. She had no way of knowing. Thorin's eyes gave away nothing of his thoughts and if she were to look beyond them, Thorin would trust her even less than he already did.

Thoughts flew around in her head. Her tail was twitching. The longer she sat there, motionless, the more she felt like springing up, flying away and leave this wretched Dwarf and all he represented behind. Living alone again, free, with no one to worry about but herself. The more she thought about it, the more tempting it seemed.

Thorin extended a hand towards the red stone at his feet.

* * *

 **Circlefiring is my name for what Toothless (How To Train Your Dragon) does when he goes to sleep. It's at 0:30:30 in the movie on Netflix.**

 **Have a nice Sunny day!**


	11. Ten

**Author's Note**

 **Sorry it took so long, but I'm in my final year of school and I've got exams in a month. The good news is, I applied for Veterinary Medicine (did I mention?) and got my result yesterday. Out of a thousand applicants, the best 225 are allowed in. I'm a bit above that, but there are always some that fail their exams, that decide they want to study something else...I'm close enough to 225 to hope for a spot.**

 **Anyhoo, enjoy!**

 **10**

Thorin had had a bad day. First the female creature he had reluctantly, at Gandalf's urging, accepted into his Company, suddenly sprouted wings and breathed fire. Judging from Gandalf's barely hidden smirk, that had all been his idea.

Then, when she came down again, she and Gandalf had all but forced him to accept her. Of course he could have refused, but that could have resulted in serious injury. She did almost attack Bofur, after all. If she really decided to lunge at him, he wasn't at all sure he could get his sword out of its sheath fast enough. Aside from the little incident with Bofur, she didn't appear violent or dangerous at all. But her long claws and sharp teeth left little doubt that she very effectively could be, if she felt like it.

Also, she used magic. Which he didn't trust. The only creatures he knew used magic were Wizards and Elves. Wizards were to be approached carefully, they always had a hidden agenda which could or could not bode well for those involved. And Elves…he had lost faith in them a long time ago and now hated them. With good reason. Their silky hair and dainty manners disguised their rotten insides. Had they helped the Dwarves of Erebor in their hour of need, as they had promised to do a thousand times over, things would have turned out a lot differently.

And now, after having been absent most of the day, she walked back into camp in the middle of the night. He kept one eye on her and the other on his surroundings. For all he knew, this could be a trap. Who knew where her loyalties lay. But he remembered the brief glimpse into her mind when she spoke to him on the plains. She had promised her allegiance to him, and he hadn't seen any sign of insincerity. Then again, he was inexperienced when it came to searching people's minds.

There was something in her tail, he noticed. At first, he thought it was the knob on the end of it that glowed whenever she used magic, and kept a wary eye out for any signs of trouble. But as she came closer, he realized it wasn't her tail glowing with a weak red light. It was a gemstone, wrapped in her tail as she walked over to him.

He didn't understand her. He probably never would. He had no idea what moved her. But this he did understand. She understood the difficult position she had put him in, and gave him a gift to make it up. It was his choice, and his alone, to accept or refuse it.

He looked from her forest green eyes to the red stone at his feet. A fire opal, his experienced eyes told him. The bright red spots peeking out from inside the cracked stone were unmistakable. It was not an especially beautiful one, he had seen some better ones…

He frowned. Taking a closer look at it, the pattern of the spots didn't match those of a fire opal. In fact, they weren't really spots at all. More like…waves. But fire opals never had waves…there was no red gemstone that did.

His curiosity got the better of him. He extended a hand towards the red stone at his feet.

The moment his fingertips brushed the surface of the fiery stone, he became aware of an unsettling sensation. He jerked his hand away, but it was already too late. He felt as if his mind had been enlarged. As if a window had suddenly appeared inside his head, and something that wasn't his lay on the other side.

A look up into Skyfire's pale blue eyes told him that was exactly what had happened. She was panting, eyes wide and panicky. For a moment, they locked eyes. Then it seemed as if the window closed and what lay beyond disappeared.

But that didn't erase what just happened. The window was still there, and though he couldn't push it open, he knew he couldn't destroy it either.

"What…" he tried. "What did you do?!"

She just shook her head and looked as if she wanted to run. But she took a deep breath, closing her eyes and calming herself. Then he could feel the window being pushed open inward, and through it came a hesitant and wary voice.

 ** _"_** ** _Can you hear me?"_**

His eyes widened, for her mouth hadn't moved. He realized the voice came from inside his head. He couldn't push it away. Involuntarily, he directed his thoughts towards it.

 _"_ _What is this?"_

 ** _"_** ** _I don't know,"_** she said, and he felt she was honest. ** _"But I don't think I can stop it."_**

He groaned. His eye was pulled to the red stone, forgotten between them. "What did you do?" he asked again.

"I think…I think I connected my mind to yours. Through that." She looked at the stone as if the whole situation was its fault.

"So you know my memories?" he asked heatedly. His memories, his _mind_ , was his own business, and he needed no one inside it. Least of all her.

"Can you see mine?"

"No."

"Me neither."

They fell silent again. The situation fully hit her, and him through that connection, and feelings of despair and indescribable sadness washed over him. He was about to ask if she was okay, when she suddenly closed the window again and took wing, away from him and her problems and into the night. The darkness quickly swallowed her and she was lost to his eyes. But not to his mind.

* * *

Eventually they made it work. Neither of them had told anyone else about the stone or the connection that flowed through it. He kept the stone in a pocket at all times, understanding the danger should it fall into the wrong hands. He wasn't insensible to its beauty though, naming it Ursel, fire of fires, for the fire she had breathed into it. Often he sat at night, on watch, gazing into the depths of the stone. The longer he looked, the less terrible the result of his touching it seemed to grow. Whenever the stone captured his eyes, its beauty seemed to be more than worth the price he had unknowingly paid.

The effect of Ursel depended on the distance between both receivers. They could feel each other's presence anywhere within a ten-kilometer radius, but to get more than a sense of direction they needed to be as close as half a kilometre. Then they could sense each other's wellbeing. For moods and emotions, the distance needed to be less than twenty meters.

The distance limit came in handy during the day. On wing, she ranged far ahead or behind the trail of ponies crawling through the landscape like a lazy snake. Whenever he called out the infamous words "We camp here for the night" and started doling out tasks, he meanwhile sent a signal to her.

It wasn't so much as a word, more like a flash, that told her they would not travel any further today. She then used the soft pulling at the edge of her mind to find him and nest down for the night.

* * *

As usual, during the day while riding at the head of the column, he puzzled things over rather than engage in small talk behind him. Such things included the journey, his sister back in the Blue Mountains, how his sister-sons were holding up… Most of the time though, they were things concerning his four-legged companion.

Not the connection between them, no. He had grudgingly made his peace with that and was starting to see its benefits. No, his concerns were about things much more down-to-earth.

The morning after that fateful night, when they were all breaking up camp, saddling the ponies and preparing for another day that would bring them closer to the Mountain, she had vanished into the forest and returned holding a deer's antler in her mouth, which she began to strip of its outer layer using her tongue.

That meant she either had hunted and killed the buck, which, taking into account the size of the antler, must have been no small feat. Or she had chased away the animal that had made the kill and taken the prey for herself. Again considering the size of the antler, that must have been an animal larger and stronger than herself. Even with her magic, he believed that when push came to shove, strength was the deciding factor. And he had seen no injuries or other signs of a fight. He had concluded that she killed it herself, a conclusion strengthened by, now that he thought of it, the fact that she never took anything out of the cooking pot. He hadn't really registered it, but she had to eat too. _She must be taking care of it herself._

Bombur usually cooked, and the Dwarf was as sensitive as he was big. Thorin had noticed he seemed a bit down lately, and now realized what the cause was. The cook was offended by her refusal to eat his food.

Considering her mind-reading, he found that surprising. If he could see Bombur's depressiveness with his own two eyes, why couldn't she?

When she'd been chewing on the antler, he took advantage of their connection and gruffly ordered: _"Next time you will bring your prey back."_

The only reaction he got was an annoyed flick of her ear in his general direction.


	12. Eleven

**11**

"We camp here for the night," he shouted, while at the same time debating sending the usual signal. Maybe he should…then again, she would find out anyway.

 _"_ _We've stopped,"_ he told her.

 ** _"_** ** _What? Why so–"_** The rest he blocked out. He had quickly found out how he could block certain parts of his mind for her, so she couldn't see them. He standardly blocked his memories every time they spoke, and sometimes, such as now, their exchange of thoughts too. If she really wanted to, he knew very well she could break through his blockade, but so far she respected his wishes.

* * *

 _Urrrghh,_ she thought.

She understood he didn't want her to know everything, but _could he at least answer my question?_

The sun was too high in the sky to stop. Usually the Dwarves rode until the sun and the earth almost made contact. Now the sphere wasn't even darkening yet. _Stupid Dwarf._

She sighed and turned around. With the light, she didn't even need to use Ursel to find them. They were setting up camp at the edge of a forest, which struck her as odd. Why not in the forest? Where's the cover?

She landed in the middle of Dwarves busily unpacking their ponies. She thought about asking them what was happening, but decided against it. Years of hunting had taught her patience.

Speaking of hunting…no, if she went into the forest now, she might miss the big event.

Whatever that might be.

* * *

She found the answer almost immediately. When she landed she was just in time to see the Dwarves finish setting up camp. Some were on the field already, and she heard the clanging of metal against metal.

Apart from the hunting (which she still refused) he had never given her a standard task to do every day. Today probably wasn't any different. She crossed the camp and walked in the direction of the loud metallic sounds. _I hope Thorin has set out a sentry. This noise is sure to attract any ill-wantings in within a one-kilometre radius. Especially in an open field like this._

She doubted he would be that naïve though. Thorin was experienced…and as stubborn as she was. He wouldn't take kindly to her telling him what to do. She shrugged.

She found the source of the clanging: Fíli and Balin were trying to hack each other to pieces. Each time their blades met, it sent out a clang. She also heard an ongoing stream of commentary coming from Thorin, directed solely at his nephew.

"Higher."

CLANG!

"Harder."  
CLANG!

"Faster!"

CLANG!

She heard Fíli grunting as he tried to use his uncle's advice while at the same time trying to block Balin's sword, on its way to separate his head and body.

She watched for a while but could see nothing interesting about metal sticks flying around. So she went on.

A little farther, four Dwarves could be seen with warhammers or axes in their hands. They had tied sacks filled with stuff to some of the lower branches, and were hitting them with everything they had. Each time the sack swung away, then back again in time for another hit.

Still not so interesting. On she went.

She was now deeper into the woods. Suddenly another sound reached her. She pricked up her ears and listened. She picked up the hissing of something zooming through the air and smiled. The only weapons that could hurt her were arrows, rocks, and other airborne dangers. Maybe she could practice on evading them.

She entered a clearing, padding silently until she saw them.

If she remembered correctly: Ori, Kíli, Bifur? Yes, that was probably right. Ori, the smallest of the entire Company (except perhaps Bilbo) was practicing with his slingshot. Even though the weapon could do very little against an Orc or something of that size, Ori had good aim. Nearly each of his pebbles hit the light spot on the tree bark he had chosen as a target.

Kíli was practicing with his bow. He, too, had chosen a spot on a tree to shoot his arrows at, and that spot now reminded her of a hedgehog. He was shooting his arrows with impressive speed, drawing and nocking within half a second and then aiming and shooting within the next.

Bifur was abusing his tree with a weapon that reminded her of the harpoons whale-fishers used to hunt whales. It looked a bit like a spear with a ridiculously large blade. _Maybe their steel is weaker and they need a bigger blade to make up for it._ He had terrible aim though. Even though his eyes focused on the bark and he was standing at less than a meter distance from it, his spear hit a different part of the tree each time. But he didn't seem to notice. _Perhaps the axe in his head is interfering with his brain._

A mischievous idea entered her head. She crawled up behind Kíli, checking if they had seen her. She lay down in the high grass and changed her fur. She wasn't deep enough to be invisible, but it would require a trained eye to see her.

* * *

He was feeling lucky, like he always felt when his arrows ended precisely where he wanted them to. He thought back to the many years of training it took to make a tree look like what it looked like now. It had been worth it.

Next time he would be sparring with Balin and Fíli practicing with his knives. At home, he would practice sword-fighting at least an hour a day, sometimes with Thorin, usually with Fíli and the two of them helping each other. Fíli had strength, but he had speed, and their matches usually ended in a tie. Thorin could beat both of them easily.

But now, his uncle wanted to cover as much distance a day as possible, so they didn't practice every day. Only every week or so, enough for their skills to be kept up, but too little to learn anything new. His uncle wanted to give each of them the attention they needed, which was why they alternated. This week was Fíli's turn.

And so he was practicing with his bow. There was very little Thorin had left to teach him, so the only way to get better now was to practice, practice, and practice.

He pulled an arrow from the quiver on his back, nocked and drew it while already preparing for another perfect shot. He looked along the arrow to the ones already sticking out of his target, and loosed.

The arrow went off by about a decimetre.

He nearly dropped his bow. How was that possible? He had paid enough attention and there was nothing wrong with his technique. The arrows clustered together in the bark proved that. He checked his bow. Maybe the string wasn't tense enough anymore? No, it was so taut it produced a _twang_ when he pulled it a little and let it go. He walked forward to inspect the arrow. Maybe it had lost a feather or perhaps it was bent? No, looked like a perfect straight arrow, feathers intact. Then how was the miss possible?

A gust of wind, he decided. What else could it have been?

He shook his head and went back. A second gust at that exact spot was nearly impossible. The next arrow should hit its mark just fine.

It didn't. His second arrow was half a decimetre higher than his target.

He was at a loss. _How was this possible?_ What could _possibly_ make his arrows go off like that?

As the Dwarf stood there, lost in thought, he heard a suppressed snorting behind him.

He turned and at first he saw nothing, though he heard the sound coming from right there. Then he spotted two golden eyes amidst the greening grass, and the rest of her body after that. Spurts of dark smoke came from her nostrils as she tried to keep her laughter down. Her whole body shook with it.

She changed her fur back, no point keeping it green after she'd been spotted. "The look on your face…priceless!" she hiccupped as she got up.

Kíli was mature enough to not get angry. He and his brother had pranked enough when they were…had they ever stopped?

"Ha ha, very funny," he began, "Say, could you…


	13. Twelve

The squirrel was fast, but she was faster. She chased the brown animal up and down a tree, then finally caught him out of his element: on the ground. A quick bite in his neck opened his carotid and it wasn't long before his life flowed out of him and his heart stopped beating. She sat back, contemplating taking this squirrel back to the Company.

Not yet, she decided. Maybe the next one. She took the squirrel between her teeth and climbed the tree she'd just rushed out. She went halfway, high enough to not be seen by passer-by's, but not all the way to the thinner branches. She lay down, her tail curling around the branch in order to keep her up, and devoured the squirrel. While doing so, she thought back to a few hours earlier.

After Fíli was done sparring, Kíli fetched him to her. Ignoring the queer looks sent at the trio by surrounding Dwarves, he brought his brother up to speed, including the prank she had pulled on him. He finished by saying: "I'm seeing opportunities here, Fíli…"

The older Dwarf was doubtful at first. "But Uncle Thorin…he wasn't exactly happy with our last prank…"

Their last prank, she was told after a curious rumble, had involved a heap of flour and a bucket of water. It had resulted in an angry Dís (their mother) and a very furious (and very floury) Thorin.

Kíli shrugged. "But he can't punish us this time, can he? I mean, he can't ground us or anything." The corners of Fíli's mouth were going up. "All he can do is shout at us –"

"And we'll survive that," finished Fíli.

The brothers were now grinning widely at each other. She felt like it was time to chime in.

"So, what did you have in mind?"

* * *

Dwalin was polishing one of his axes, Keeper. One spot was a bit duller than he wished it to be, and he sat down to remedy that. He'd do Grasper in a minute.

When the axe's surface gleamed in the firelight, he reached out to Grasper, laying next to him.

The axe _hissed_ at him, like an angry snake.

He pulled his hand back, and Grasper quieted again.

He frowned. He knew he named his axes and as such sometimes thought they were more than just cold metal, but making sounds? Angry sounds at that?

"Thorin," he called, and his friend looked up from where he had been gazing into the fire. Dwalin motioned him over to where he sat and pointed towards Grasper.

Thorin, clearly about to ask what was the matter, couldn't prevent his mouth falling open as Grasper hissed, this time loud enough to make the entire Company look in their direction.

Thorin was about to try too, when a thought crossed his mind. He waved a hand behind him to shush the Company and in the ensuing silence heard two distinctly familiar voices snickering behind a bush in front of him.

He sighed, inaudibly. He knew very well that his sister-sons were mischief-makers, and apparently they had reverted to their old habits and pulled a prank on Dwalin. But, he thought, creative as they might be, even they could not pull this off. There were only two members of his Company, as far as he knew, that might be able to make a heap of metal make a sound, and one of them sat behind him, an amused smile on the wizened face. That left–

* * *

"Come out of there, now. All three of you."

Thorin's voice reached them through the leaves, sounding rather dangerous.

She turned to Fíli, crouching next to her. **_"So is this when…?"_**

"Almost," he whispered.

She smiled. The brothers had explained to her that there were four stages to a successful prank. First the three P's: Plan, Prepare, and Prank, and a fourth stage named Exit. Which pretty much spoke for itself. She thought they had nearly reached stage four, but Fíli and Kíli were the experts, so she waited for their signal. She did pull her legs up beneath her in anticipation.

She didn't have long to wait. When Thorin came stomping at the bush, yelling in rage, she heard Fíli suck in a breath and hiss **"** Now!".

They turned tail and bolted out of the bush, away from the Company, leaving behind a bellowing Thorin.

Without all their baggage, the Dwarves were actually faster than she had expected them to be. Not that they could keep up with her. But she was a sprinter, and after her initial speed burst she came to a halt and caught her breath. Once they reached her, she set off again, this time in an easy trot that allowed them to keep up.

They ran on together for a few more minutes, before stopping altogether. They stood, wheezing and laughing.

"Nice job!" Fíli called out once he could speak again.

"Not bad yourself," she grinned.

"Did you see the look on Dwalin's face?!" laughed Kíli, causing all of them to burst out laughing again.

"You don't think he'll be too angry, do you?" she asked once the laughter had finally died away.

"Uncle? Nah, he usually cools down after a time. We can go back tonight," said Fíli, looking at the sun.

They spent the time until sundown by chatting. She found out that the two brothers, neither of whom had been born in Erebor, lived with their mother Dís and their Uncle Thorin in the Blue Mountains, where the Dwarves of Erebor had settled at last after wandering Middle Earth as outcasts. When their Uncle had announced he would at last go on a Quest to destroy the Dragon and reclaim Erebor, they had been among the first to sign up. `

"Why?" she asked.

The Dwarves looked at her, then at each other. Finally, Fíli answered: "It is our birthright."

That she didn't understand. She cocked her head to the side in confusion.

Fíli elaborated: "We are Thorin's heirs, and he is King-in-Exile. Once we reclaim Erebor, he will be King Under the Mountain, and we – well, I – will be King after him."

She blinked moss-green eyes. "Why would you want to be king?"

"Er…because I have to," said Fíli uncertainly. Then he puffed himself up just a little. "Because it is my duty as Prince."

"Do you want to become King after Thorin?"

"Well, uh, yeah, I guess so?"

"What if you don't?"

"Kíli would take my place."

"What if he doesn't want to?"

"Euhh…" the brothers looked at each other. Such a problem had never arisen before. They had both been raised with the idea that one of them, probably Fíli, would become King. It was as much part of their world as the sun coming up each morning.

Seeing a dead end, she tried another question. "What does a king do?"

Fíli was glad he could give an answer again. "He looks after his subjects. He receives delegations from other kingdoms, strengthens the bond with them so they will come to his aid in times of peril. He ensures trade and economy in his kingdom flow and his people thrive. He upholds the law and punishes crime with appropriate punishment. He judges criminals that are brought before him, and, if necessary, he will swing the axe in person."

She blinked. That all sounded very abstract to her. How does one stimulate trade and economy? How does one decide upon a punishment in accordance to the severity of the crime? How did Thrór treat the Elves, so they did not come to the aid of Erebor when the Dragon came?

She voiced none of her thoughts, however, and after a moment of slightly awkward silence Fíli gestured at the half of the sun still visible above the horizon.

"I think Uncle will have cooled down by now, don't you?"

They got up, stretched, and started on the way back. She could have flown back of course, but out of solidarity she stayed next to the Dwarves as they retraced their steps from earlier that day. The slight pull of Ursel at the front of her mind told her they were going in the right direction.

After lumbering for a few minutes, Kíli broke the silence. "We must be stupid, to be walking like this."

They both looked at him. "What would you have us do?" asked Fíli, while she warily prodded Kíli's mind to see what he was thinking. She didn't like what she saw.

Kíli jerked his head knowingly towards her and Fíli's brow furrowed. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Kíli ignored both his brother's doubt and her growling and made his way over to her side. He swung his leg across her back and hoisted himself between her wings, his legs resting uncomfortably on her shoulders, where her wings joined her body, and his hand loosely holding her mane.

She let him sit so just long enough for him to relax, letting him think he was safe, before rearing up and back down again so he floated in the air for a split second. As her front end came back down, her rear end came up and she slammed her tail into his lower back, knocking the air out of him, so that he flew away from her and hit the ground a good distance away and slid across the dusty ground for a few meters until finally coming to a stop.

As he lay there, noisily sucking in air and panting, Fíli, who had been standing next to her as the whole thing played before his eyes, unfroze and ran at his brother to make sure he was okay. After deducing he was still alive, he turned on her, anger in his eyes. "Was that really necessary?"

She stared back with eyes as black as a moonless night. **_"I am not a horse."_**

She checked his brother too. There was nothing broken, and although he would have a painful reminder not to do this again in the next couple of days, there was no permanent damage. Dwarves were sturdy creatures, it seemed.

She took a little pity on him and jumped into the air to hover just above them, hind legs outstretched. After they had both grabbed a leg, she gained some altitude and flew them back to camp.


	14. Thirteen

**Author's Note**

 **Finally got another chapter up. Next chapter we're getting to the good stuff.**

* * *

When they reached the camp, she landed at the edge. Thorin was sitting with his back toward the fire and although his eyes were closed, she knew he didn't sleep. Fíli and Kíli went to get their bedrolls and spread them out on the ground. The night was cold and the other Dwarves had lain their bedrolls as close to the smoldering fire as possible. As a result, Fíli and Kíli, although up to their chins in their bedrolls, couldn't help shivering just a little. So she curled up next to them and let them share in the warmth radiating from the fire inside her belly.

* * *

As punishment for their little joke, Thorin had the three of them clean the dishes for a week after that. She didn't really mind in the end, finding it much more relaxing than she'd initially thought. Also in that week was the first time she, albeit hesitantly, brought her prey back to camp.

When she appeared at the edge of the camp with a dead rabbit in her mouth, every eye was on her. It was as if they realized for the first time that she was a predator, and could kill them should she wish so. She was a little surprised, to be honest. They hunted too, didn't they?

Bombur was the first to regain control over his tongue. "Ah, very good, we'll have rabbit stew tonight," he said as he came trundling over to her.

She dropped the rabbit, stood over it protectively, flattened her ears and snarled viciously enough to make Bombur stop dead in his tracks. After a look at Thorin, who stood frowning at her with his arms crossed, the fat Dwarf retreated back behind his cooking pot.

Thorin quietly asked Gandalf, who happened to stand next to him, "What now?"

Gandalf barely hid a smile and Thorin got the distinct impression that he was enjoying the situation. "Well, you're the leader."

Blasted wizards, always speaking in riddles. Thorin sighed inaudibly as he made his way over to her.

She saw him coming and snarled again. Did it sound less aggressive than with Bombur, or was that just his imagination? He tried talking to her through Ursel, but she deflected his questioning proddings with irritation. He looked at her eyes. He had been paying attention to their colours in different situations, and he recognized orange. Orange was good, it meant annoyance but not yet full-blown anger.

As he stepped closer, feeling everyone's eyes boring into his back, her eye colour lightened, and she lowered her body until her belly was pressed to the ground. Every muscle in her body tensed, she saw him close his eyes for a second before reaching down slowly to pick up the rabbit. He kept eye contact with her as she followed his hand towards the ground. As he closed his fingers around the bloody rabbit, she rolled onto her back, light belly up, tail wagging feebly.

Her eyes slowly turn a dark brown as he stepped backwards away from her, trying not to show his surprise at her actions, before finally turning his back on her and tossing the rabbit towards Bombur, who caught it and began skinning and preparing it. After some thought, the cook threw one of the rabbit's hind legs towards her, which she caught in the air, satisfied.

The Company ate a delicious rabbit stew that night. It considerably improved the atmosphere, compared to the dried meat they were usually forced to eat. Thorin wanted to travel as fast as possible and so didn't give the Dwarves time to hunt. Now she hunted as the rest of them were still riding or setting up camp, which saved them a lot of time. The first few times, Thorin had to put his foot down to order her to give her prey up, but eventually she just walked straight to Bombur and dropped whatever she had caught that day in front of him, often with various parts chewed away as she always gave herself her lion's share before bringing it back. She even sometimes accepted a bowl of Bombur's cooking later.

Still, she surprised them regularly, such as when she stayed behind at their campsite to spend hours watching a flower open and only joining them in the late afternoon. Or that time she nearly gave Fíli a heart attack.

It had to do, Fíli told them later, still shaking slightly, with something she had told him on one of the first nights of the Journey. She'd told him that, when she was asleep, she was still aware of her surroundings. He didn't believe her, so she said he should sneak up on her one night and see. Which he did.

She heard him. Of course she heard him. She had told him the truth. She stayed still, letting him think she was asleep.

He never knew what happened. One moment he was quietly making his way over to where she lay sleeping on the ground, the next he found himself pinned on his back with something sharp pricking his skin on either side of his neck and something hot blowing against it. With a feeling of horror he realised she had her jaws around his neck. The sharp feeling were her teeth and the heat he felt was her fiery breath. The one eye he could see was dark orange, like fire.

What a stupid way to die, he thought. It almost made him laugh, but he made sure to keep perfectly still. Any movement could result in a tooth piercing his skin and drawing blood.

After what seemed like an eternity, in which only her eye and the teeth against his skin existed, she pulled away to tower over him, growling softly with her lips drawn back. Dimly, he was aware of nervous activity around him. He must have screamed or something, because overlapping, panicked voices filled the air. The other Dwarves tried to reach him, but whenever they got too close to her taste she swept her tail around, knocking them off their feet and pushing them back.

She spread her wings, the thin membranes stretching as the distance between the bones grew. She raised her head and opened her mouth, revealing the hellish red pit that was her throat. He fought to keep his eyes open, to keep them from closing like a coward's, even though he was sure this burning hole was the last thing he would ever see before she killed him.

But she didn't kill him. Slowly, her wings closed, coming back against her body. The pressure on his chest lightened as she pulled her paws back. Her mouth shut, and she blew a cloud of smoke from her nostrils into his face before climbing off him, leaving him coughing and spluttering as the other Dwarves rushed in.

Kíli and Óin reached him first, Thorin interestingly staying behind, instead making his way over to her.

"You're fine, not even a drop of blood," the healer told Fíli, not entirely hiding his surprise at the control Skyfire had demonstrated.

 _"_ _Tell me…"_ Thorin said, _"he wasn't in any real danger, was he?"_

 ** _"_** ** _No."_**

 _Hmmm… Maybe…_

Of course she could read his thoughts. **_"Forget it. I'm not your pet."_**

She circlefired and curled up with a wing over her head.

Danger or no danger, the experience had scared the living daylights out of Fíli for a moment. So she walked beside his horse the next day, and asked if he was all right. When he said he was, she assured him she was never going to kill him. Which made him smile. A little. In hindsight, he decided, the whole event wasn't as terrifying as it had seemed at the time. A king should be able to endure worse.

* * *

She asked Gandalf and heard that, after a month and a half of travel, they were at about a quarter of the trip. At this rate, they would get to the Lonely Mountain in late autumn. Thus far, it was, dare she say it, a bit of a dull affair.

Also there was the problem of the map. Even though Thorin sat poring over it for evenings on end, he couldn't find the key to finding the door once they got there. Without that door, the key Thráin had passed over to his son was useless and with it the whole trip.

* * *

It was when they were camping on a lonely cliff that she learned more about her troubled companion. Thorin had dozed off against a rock and Fíli and Kíli were keeping watch. She was curled up next to them. Gandalf was smoking his pipe and Bilbo was feeding his pony an apple, though he tried to not be noticed. The rest of the Company was sound asleep.

Suddenly a loud screeching echoed through the night, waking Thorin and sending her into a tree overlooking the cliff. She held on to a branch with her tail and twitched her ears, trying to figure out where the sound had come from.

"What was that?" Bilbo asked, coming closer to the fire.

"Orcs," Kíli replied, gazing into the night.

"Orcs?" Bilbo said, a panicky note creeping into his voice.

"Throat-cutters," said Fíli, as if he were describing the weather. "There'll be dozens of them out there. The Lone Lands are crawling with them."

"They strike," added Kíli, a hint of amusement in his voice, "in the wee small hours, when everyone's asleep. Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood."

The brothers looked at each other and chuckled at the look of panic on the Hobbit's face.

She turned her head around and growled at them at about the same moment Thorin said, "You think that's funny?"

Fíli and Kíli looked away. To find both Thorin and Skyfire against them was humbling. From Thorin they were used to it, but Skyfire was usually in for a bit of fun.

"You think a night raid by Orcs is a joke?" Thorin went on.

"We didn't mean anything by it," mumbled Kíli.

"No, you didn't," spat Thorin. "You know nothing of the world."

"Don't mind him, laddie," said Balin, who had evidently returned from a sanitary stop. "Thorin has more cause than most to hate Orcs."

She turned to Balin, then to Thorin, who had walked towards the edge of the cliff and looked into the night.

She climbed back out of the tree, deducing there was no immediate danger, just as Balin began his story.

"After the Dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thrór tried to reclaim the ancient Dwarf Kingdom of Moria. But our enemy had gotten there first. Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs, led by the most vile of all their race. Azog, the Defiler."

Upon hearing the name, Thorin's hatred crashed over her like a wave. She shuddered, hoping with all her heart he would never hate her like that.

"The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began…by beheading the king."

Grief. Terrible grief. She had to forcibly keep tears from running down her face.

"Thráin, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing, taken prisoner or killed. We did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us.  
"That is when I saw him. A young Dwarf-prince, facing down the pale Orc. He stood alone against this terrible foe. His armour bent, wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield. Deflecting the Orc's attacks, he managed to grasp a sword from a fallen comrade and cut off the Orc's arm. Azog the Defiler learned that day…that the line of Durin is not so easily broken.  
"Our forces rallied, and drove the Orcs back. Our enemy had been defeated. But there was no feast nor song that night. For our dead were beyond the count of grief. Wee few had survived.  
"And I thought to myself then, there is one who I could follow. There is one I could call King."

 _Maybe I could too._

Thorin turned around to see his Company all looking at him, silently promising their support. He responded by inclining his head in gratitude.

"And the pale Orc," Bilbo asked Balin, "what happened to him?"

It was Thorin who answered, "He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago."

She decided that was an appropriate ending to the evening and flew off to let the story sink in. As such, she missed Gandalf and Balin exchanging a worried look.

She also missed the two Orcs upon Wargs across the ravine, observing the Company and talking to each other in the rough Dark Speech.


	15. Fourteen

**Author's Note**

 **Good stuff beginning now**

* * *

 **14**

Yesterday, she had killed a deer and brought it to Bombur. What was left of it, his pony carried to their next camping spot, which meant she didn't have to hunt for them today. Just for herself.

She came upon a swampy area with geese nesting everywhere between the reed fields. Using her nose to separate newly laid eggs from almost hatching ones, she chased a few geese off their nest, trudging through the soft mud which reached up to her ankles. Once she found a fresh nest with four eggs in it, she climbed onto the small island it formed and began sucking the eggs out. They were best now, when there was not yet a half-grown chick inside.

She left a mess of broken eggshells behind and then, because she couldn't resist, she chased through the fields, startling geese, just because they made such a funny quacking sound when they took flight.

Muddy water splashed onto her body as her legs grew heavy with dried brown clumps. Finally she reached dry ground and looked back, smiling as she saw the clear trail she had left behind.

She burned off most of the mud before jumping into a shallow pool to wash away the rest. Then she sat in the setting sun to wash her fur like a cat would.

Finally, when the sun had disappeared below the edge of the world, she decided to go back to her companions. Using Ursel to find Thorin, she set off in that direction.

It wasn't long before she came upon proof of troll-habitation. First the horrible stench that seemed to soak the entire forest, then some tattered pieces of fabric which looked suspiciously like clothing. She sniffed at them, but they fortunately didn't smell familiar.

She decided she was probably safer up in the air than down on the ground and flapped her wings, rising from the ground. She flew towards Thorin, but before she got to him, she heard a terrible ruckus that sent every bird in the vicinity flapping into the sky. It wasn't an animal. She heard very familiar voices grunting and yelling.

 _O, boy._

She didn't have to use Ursel anymore, just tracing the noise to its source. She heard other sounds now too, clanging and screaming and stomping. She was nearing the sounds…and then, as quickly as it had started, everything died down. She halted, hovering in place, before diving down and landing on the ground. Carefully, she made her way through the forest, zigzagging between the trees, until finally she saw a clearing up ahead. She changed her colour and peered out from behind a rock.

With open mouth, she gaped at the scene in front of her. Three trolls, discussing how they would cook the half of the Company bound on a spit over the fire, while the other half lay to the side stuck in bags that left only their heads sticking out. How had this happened? Trolls were about the hardest creatures to get caught by, they were rambunctious and fairly dumb.

The bagged half included Thorin, and she quietly prowled around the clearing in order to reach him.

She brushed across his mind make him aware of her presence, then whispered into his ear, "How'd you get into this mess?"

He startled a little, then whispered back urgently, "Do something!"

"Like what? What happened?"

He filled her in quietly. Fíli had come running toward them, yelling there were trolls nearby, and they had already captured Bilbo. Kíli had stayed behind to stand guard and distracted the trolls just long enough for the rest of the Company to come barging into the clearing.

They engaged the trolls, and frankly, were on the winning side, when one of them spotted Bilbo and threatened to rip his arms off if they didn't surrender right there and then. They had laid down their weapons, which were piled up next to the fire and got stuffed into bags or tied to the spit.

"Ah."

"What 'Ah'?" spluttered Thorin. "Don't stand here gawking at me, do something!"

She sighed and turned around, beginning a stealthy manoeuvre that would get her on the other side of the clearing so she could divert the attention of the trolls. She didn't particularly hurry, taking her time to survey the ground in front of her before placing her paws down, making virtually no sound at all. Adding her camouflaged body meant it was impossible to notice her unless you knew she was there. She completely ignored Thorin's thoughts, shot at her like arrows: _"Move it!"_ and _"Hurry up!"_ and _"Would you just get going!"_ and kept her dark eyes on the trolls at all times, all the while thinking things like _Why should I be the one to rescue them? What if I weren't here, what would they do? How can they ever hope to reclaim the Lonely Mountain if they can't take on three trolls?_

The trolls were talking amongst themselves and she wasn't paying much attention to it, when she suddenly heard the squeaky voice of the burglar.

"Stop! You are making a _terrible_ mistake!"

"You can't reason with them, they're halfwits!" yelled Dori from the spit.

"Halfwits?" said Bofur. "What does that make us?" _Not much._

"I meant with the…with the seasoning," Bilbo went on. He had managed to get up and hopped towards the trolls.

"Wha' about the seasonin'?" growled one of the trolls, apparently the cook.

"Well, have you smelled them?" said Bilbo, gaining confidence as the troll actually sniffed at the Dwarves. "You'll need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up."

A chorus of "Traitor!" issued from the Dwarves, but she looked at Bilbo with something close to respect. He was smarter than she'd thought, and certainly smarter than the Dwarves. He was trying to play for time.

She knew the only thing that could possibly kill a troll was daylight, but as it was the middle of the night she couldn't do much with that information. But if they could distract the trolls for a few more hours…it might work. She let Bilbo steal the show for a little longer, ready to intervene at the merest notion of danger. It would be good for his self-esteem.

"Wha' do you know about cooking Dwarf?" said the troll on the other side of the spit.

"Shuddup," said the cook. "Let the um…flurburburburhobbit talk."

Her eyes widened and the corners of her mouth twitched up, but fortunately no one was looking her way.

"Th-The secret to um, cooking Dwarf," began the Hobbit, stammering as he had to come up with something.

"Yes? Come on, tell us the secret!" urged the cook.

"Yes, yes! The secret is…" the Hobbit stole a sideways glance at his apprehensive companions, "tooooooo…skin them first!"

The Dwarves erupted, threatening Bilbo with curses and damnation. Meanwhile, the cook, not taking his eyes off the poor Hobbit, gestured at another troll, "Tom, give me filleting knife."

"What a load of wubbish," interrupted the second troll, who was still dutifully turning the spit. "I've eaten plenty with their skins on. Scoff 'em I say, boots and all!"

"He's right," came the third, "nothing wrong with a bit o' raw Dwarf!" He grabbed Bombur by the feet from amidst the pile and held him upside-down above his mouth. "Nice and crunchy."

Bombur whimpered loudly and she could see drops of sweat fall from his gleaming head. She was halfway getting up to intervene when Bilbo beat her to it.

"No not that one, he's infected!"

Both Dwarf and troll turned to him with identical expressions of disgust on their face, while the one at the spit said, "You what?"

"He-He's got worms…in his…tubes!" squeaked the Hobbit.

The troll threw Bombur back onto the pile with a cry of disgust and she heard the other Dwarves groan as the heavy body landed on them with a thud.

She got an angry thought from Thorin: _"Do something! NOW!"_

 ** _"_** ** _Why would I? You're doing fine."_**

"I-In fact, they all have," Bilbo went on. "They are infested with parasites, it's a terrible business, I wouldn't risk it, I really wouldn't."

But of course, the Dwarves had to ruin it. "We don't have parasites!" "You have parasites!"

She couldn't blame Bilbo for rolling his eyes as he saw all his hard work go up in smoke. She sent a flash of a thought to Thorin: **_"Give 'em a kick, would you?"_**

Thorin understood almost immediately and put a well-placed kick into the mess of Dwarves at his feet, effectively shutting them up. She waited a few anxious seconds until the Dwarves finally caught on and started yelling again: "I've got parasites as big as my arm!" "Mine are the biggest parasites!" "We're riddled!"

The spit-turning troll abandoned his spot and stomped over to Bilbo, who understandably shrunk back. "Wha' would you have us do, then? Let 'em all go?"

"Well…" Bilbo mused, clearly not finding that a bad idea at all.

"You think I don't know what you're up to?" he poked Bilbo in the chest a few times, causing him to stumble back a few steps, before turning to his fellow trolls. "This little ferret is taking us for fools!"

 _This is not good,_ she thought, tensing up. The troll was getting angry and Bilbo was losing his cool, squeaking: "Ferret?!"

"Fools?" another troll repeated heatedly.

Tok, tok, tok.

The sound cut through the heated atmosphere around the clearing like a ray of sunlight through a storm.

The three trolls turned around to see where the sound had come from and saw her standing next to a hollow tree she had tapped her left hind paw against, producing the sound they had just heard. She placed her foot back on the ground, smiled and sat down on her behind, sticking out her hind legs so the soles were visible, her wings fanned out on the forest floor behind her.

"Do pardon me for interrupting," she began, "but you were all making an awful lot of noise, and I just thought I'd come see what all the fuss is about?"

She looked expectantly at each of the trolls in turn, waiting for one to answer her question. After what seemed like an eternity (she noticed the stars fading above them and the sky lightening shade by shade), the cook opened his mouth. "Well, we caught a bunch o' Dwarves," he motioned vaguely towards said Dwarves, who were all following the exchange wide-eyed, "and we're gonna eat 'em!"

She nodded understandingly. "I see." She got to her feet and padded closer to the fire. "All creatures have to eat, after all…" She could feel protest building among the Dwarves, but silenced them with a look. "But I'm afraid…" she leapt onto the spit like a cat, making sure to retract her claws so she didn't hurt anyone "that I have to insist you let these particular Dwarves go." She sat down on the bound Dwarves, her tail hanging vertically down. She could see a yellow shade in the blue sky.

"An' why would we do that?" said one of the trolls aggressively.

"Because I've signed a contract that says I have to do everything in my power to get them to the other side of Middle-Earth. And since I've got quite a lot in my power, which, trust me, you would not like to experience, it's truly best if you let them go peacefully."

"Really?" a troll asked sarcastically.

"Really," she nodded seriously.

"Or else?"

One of the trolls had been silently making his way around her, no doubt to try and catch her from behind, and she said, "I'll have to do things like this," as she hit him under his chin with her tail, hard. His eyes rolled up and out of sight as he swayed on the spot, before tumbling backwards and hitting the ground with a smack that shook the forest floor. He didn't come back up for the time being.

"I really don't want to have to do that again," she said apologetically. "Fortunately…I don't have to."

And suddenly everyone noticed what her sharp ears had picked up moments ago: an old, grey man with a pointed hat and a staff in his hand, which made a soft thumping sound as it hit the boulder he stood on.

"The dawn will take you all!" proclaimed Gandalf.

"Who's that?" asked a troll.

"No idea," said the second, sounding unconcerned.

"Can we eat him too?" piped up the third.

The Wizard took a tiny step to his left and brought his staff down hard on the boulder, splitting it vertically in two. Waves of sunlight burst through the gap and hit everyone in the clearing.

Immediately, the trolls started shrieking and tried to block out the sun's merciless assault, which did them little good as first their arms and then their bodies turned to stone. She winced and closed off her mind from her surroundings so she didn't have to feel the trolls' pain of essentially being burnt alive.

It only took a few seconds for their faer to die.

For a moment there was complete silence.

Then the cheers of relief started.


	16. Fifteen

**Author's Note**

 **Two chapters today, I had intended to have them as one but they ended up a little too long, so I split them halfway. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **15**

She sighed, both in relief and sadness. Relief that her companions were safe, but sadness that the trolls had to die. Bloodthirsty and savage they might have been, but not inherently evil. They would have killed the Dwarves for the same reason she would kill a rabbit: because they were hungry.

She would have killed them herself because she had taken a liking to the Dwarves, but this whole mess could have been avoided had the Dwarves stayed away from here.

"Could you get us out?" asked Bofur beneath her. She growled at him, then reached out with her consciousness to envelop everyone in the clearing and, in a deceivingly soft tone, asked them why they hadn't just left the trolls alone.

A cacophony of angry, confused thoughts was her response and after a few minutes she realized the Dwarves would never understand her problem with killing the trolls. The idea that they were evil was set deep into their minds, and no arguments from her would change that. She closed off the connection except to Thorin, who she warned: **_"Beware not to run into this kind of trouble again. The next time I might not be nearby to save you."_**

He grumbled in response, but she didn't pay attention to him, instead jumping down from the spit to kick some sand over the fire to make it go out before using the serrated underside of a claw to slice through the ropes binding the Dwarves. After cutting three, they fell off the spit and onto the ground in a heap. She left them to untangle themselves as she walked over to the half of the Dwarves in bags. She ripped a few of them open all the way and then left them to crawl out of the bags and help the others. She walked over to Gandalf, who was leaning on his staff and watching the proceedings. She pressed her head against his leg and he scratched between her ears.

They stayed that way for a few seconds until Thorin walked over to them with all the dignity he could muster after crawling out of a bag. "Where did you go to, if I may ask?"

"To look ahead," the Wizard replied casually.

"What brought you back?"

"Looking behind," said Gandalf, a sharp edge to his voice. Thorin accepted the admonition by inclining his head regally.

"Nasty business," the Wizard went on. "Still, they are all in one piece."

At this point, she turned to Thorin, shortly bared her teeth at him with a snarl, and then walked off.

She sat down for a minute as the Dwarves approached her with words of thanks and appreciation. She paid them no heed.

Soon enough, Thorin came over. "Fan out!" he ordered. "Search for their cave!"

* * *

Said cave was found quickly enough. She simply sniffed and trotted off towards the source of the stench, the rest trailing behind. Getting closer, it made her eyes water and by the time the cave came into view she was having quite some trouble keeping her supper down. She couldn't believe the Dwarves could stand it as they went down, one by one, into the cave. Then again, they didn't smell too rosy themselves, so maybe they were used to it.

She paced restlessly in front of the opening as she tried to listen to what was going on inside. But with every accidental breath out of the cave, her food shot up to the back of her throat, until she couldn't push it down again.

When the first Dwarves emerged again, they found her panting in front of something that bore a striking resemblance to a puddle of half-molten lava. After coming back to herself, she dragged herself away from the cave and seven meters up into a tree, where she began taking in huge, calming mouthfuls of fresh, clean air. When she jumped back down again, she felt much better.

She was just sniffing at Gandalf's and Thorin's new swords (made by the High Elves, how in the world had they ended up in a troll hoard?) when she heard something. Her ears perked up and twitched as she heard something coming towards them at high speed, crashing through the forest as they went. **_"Something's coming,"_** she warningly notified Thorin, who repeated her warning out loud and spurred the Dwarves into action as she tried to smell whether they were friend or foe.

She frowned as she sniffed the air. It smelled…familiar, but she couldn't place it. She was searching her memory for the answer, when the unknown being came into view.

Accompanied by a loud yelling of "Thieves! Fire! MURDER!" a sled pulled by big rabbits burst forth from the trees, and clinging to the sled was–

"Radagast! Radagast the Brown," said Gandalf, sounding relieved, as he motioned to the Dwarves to lower their weapons because this odd-looking fellow was no threat. Far from it, actually.

As soon as she realized who it was, she bounded towards the Wizard, for that was what he was, and began rubbing her head against his body like a gigantic cat, purring loudly and wagging her long tail. He absently scratched her back as he focused on Gandalf.

"What on earth are you doing here?" the latter asked.

"I was looking for you, Gandalf," said Radagast, barely aware, it seemed to the Dwarves, who had been staring at the scene wide-eyed, of her presence. "Something's wrong. Something's _terribly_ wrong."

"Yes?" encouraged Gandalf. She smiled. Radagast wasn't known for his prioritizing.

"Just give me a minute…uhm…" Radagast squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember what was so important. He heaved a pitiful sigh. "Oh… I had a thought and now I've lost it. It was right there," he assured Gandalf, pointing into his mouth, "on the tip of my tongue!"

His eyes crossed as he stuck out his tongue. "Oh, itf notf a thought atf all! Ifs justf a liffle…" Gandalf plucked something thin and wiggly from his mouth "…stick insect." He held up his hand, and Gandalf placed the walking stick onto his palm. She noticed some of the Dwarves looking disgusted and grinned her toothy grin at them. She was quite familiar with Radagast's many oddities.

"Right," said Gandalf, turning to the rest of the Company, "may we have some privacy, please?"

* * *

"What are they saying?" asked Bofur.

"Can you hear anything?" asked Kíli.

"Who is this fellow?" demanded Thorin.

She answered them all at the same time with one hiss, "SSSHT!"

They complied for maybe three seconds. Then Fíli whispered loudly into her ear: "What do they say?"

She rolled her eyes and groaned, "Will you just be quiet for ten seconds!", her tail swishing, a clear indicator that she was getting angry.

In the silence that followed, she was able to make out bits of the quiet conversation going on some fifteen meters deeper into the forest.

"Dol Guldur?" she heard Gandalf say, sounding bemused. "But the old fortress is abandoned."

"No, Gandalf," whispered Radagast, a clang of doom in his voice. "It is not. A dark power dwells in there, such as I have never felt before." She could feel the hackles on her back slowly beginning to rise. "It is the shadow of an ancient horror. One that can summon the spirits…of the dead." Her eyes grew wide, that wasn't supposed to be possible. "I saw him, Gandalf. From out of the darkness…a Necromancer has come."

A hand touched her back and without thinking, she spun around and snapped her jaws closed, a hair's breadth from Kíli's fingers, which he hastily pulled back.

"Are you all right?" Fíli ventured, gesturing vaguely to her back, where every single hair was upright, all the way from her neck to the base of her tail. She looked at him with a new colour in her eyes: grey like a stormcloud.

"Sorry," she said to Kíli as her hackles went down and her eyes turned a pale dark green.

"What's going on?" he asked. She was relieved he wasn't angry at or afraid of her, and her eyes returned to their usual purple. "Nothing."

He looked sceptical, so she added: "Nothing we need to worry about right now." He seemed satisfied with that, as were most of the other Dwarves, who began rummaging around again.

She looked at Thorin, who was already staring at her, and told him: **_"I'll explain later."_** As he was the leader and would, if this trip came to a successful end, be king of one of the mightiest Dwarf-kingdoms, she thought he deserved to know. He nodded just as a howl echoed through the forest, capturing everyone's attention.

"Was that a wolf?" asked Bilbo, sounding confused rather than fearful for a change. "Are there wolves out there?"

"Wolves?" echoed Bofur, sounding a little panicky. "No, that is not a wolf."

 _Nope,_ she thought grimly, trying to pinpoint the location of the sound. _Distant cousin._

She heard growling, and whipped around just in time to see the warg leap down from a hill behind them and go straight for Thorin. Not if I have anything to say in it.

She barrelled into the warg from the side before he could reach the Dwarf, going straight for the throat and crushing its windpipe before it could get up from under her. It trashed for a few more seconds, warm blood flooding her mouth, then she felt its heart stop and she knew it was dead. She detached herself from its skin and tried to get the fur out from between her teeth. Only then did she notice about half of the Company staring at her and it occurred to her, a bit belatedly, that they had never seen her hunt before.

She roared a warning as a second warg came crashing through the trees, and Kíli reacted swiftly by putting an arrow into its already opened mouth. Thorin and Dwalin finished it off.

The wind brought them more howling as Gandalf and Radagast re-joined them. "Warg-scouts!" snarled Thorin as he pulled his sword out of the warg he'd just killed. "Which means an Orc-pack is not far behind."

"Orc-pack?!" screeched Bilbo in disbelief.

"Who did you tell about your Quest, beyond your kin?" interrupted Gandalf agitatedly.

"No one," replied Thorin, sounding worried.

"WHO DID YOU TELL?!"

"No one, I swear!"

Gandalf sighed.

"What in Durin's name is going on?" demanded Thorin.

 _Isn't it obvious?_ she thought. A moment later, Gandalf confirmed: "You are being hunted."

She swished her tail angrily back and forth. _Wonderful._


	17. Sixteen

**Author's Note**

 **And here's our second chapter of the day. Once more: Enjoy!**

* * *

 **16**

For a few moments, chaos reigned, as the Dwarves all started talking at the same time without listening to one another. Gandalf's attempts to shut them up and get their attention failed, so he looked at her. She got the message.

She raised her tail and slammed it down, the knob on the end hitting the ground with a much louder _thump_ than could be expected from an object of that size. The Dwarves fell silent, whipping around to find the origin of the sound, and in the silence Gandalf took the lead again.

"Now then–" he began, but he was immediately interrupted by Dwalin: "We have to get out of here!"

"We can't!" Ori immediately protested. "We have no ponies. They bolted!"

She groaned. Without their four-legged companions, the Dwarves would be slow. And they hadn't been very fast to begin with.

"I'll draw them off," Radagast suddenly piped up, sounding determined.

"These are Gundabad wargs," Gandalf said, wiping the suggestion off the table. "They will outrun you."

"These are Rhosgobel rabbits," said Radagast, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I'd like to see them try."

It wasn't as if they had much of a choice, but as Gandalf gathered the Dwarves and herded them off towards the edge of the forest, she moved to stand in front of Radagast as he climbed onto his sled, looking straight into his eyes. **_"Don't get caught."_**

His eyes softened as they looked back into her dark green ones. _"Promise, little one."_

He took his focus away from her, bent low over the handle of his sled and yelled "HA!"

A moment later, the only indication that twelve rabbits and a Wizard had just been there was a disappearing cloud of dust. She watched them crash through the forest until they were lost to her eyes, shook her head, and went after the Company.

* * *

She caught up with them as they hid behind a large boulder and took a moment to examine their surroundings. They were on an open plain, with groups of rocks here and there, but overall not very good cover. A good distance away, she spotted Radagast with an entire pack of wargs hot on his tail. Some of the wargs were ridden by Orcs, and all their attention was focused on Radagast for the time being.

"Come on," she heard Gandalf say and the Dwarves followed him. She waited for them all to pass before closing the line.

Gandalf led them across the plain, from one rock formation to the next, while Radagast kept drawing the pack further in the opposite direction. Or so she thought, until they rounded another boulder and Thorin had to grab Ori and pull him back to avoid being seen by their pursuers, because Radagast didn't seem to have the faintest idea where they were and seemed only set on staying ahead of the pack, no matter where that led him.

Gandalf deduced it was safe to move again and counted the Dwarves as they ran past him. Thorin stayed at his side and she heard him ask: "Where are you leading us?"

Gandalf didn't answer because the last of the Company had passed them and they had to go again. Thorin wasn't pleased with being ignored.

 ** _"_** ** _Where_** **are** ** _we going?"_** she asked the Wizard, who gave her a hurried image of a valley surrounded by waterfalls, accompanied by a feeling of peace and quiet.

 ** _"_** ** _Are you sure that's a good idea?"_**

 _"_ _We don't have a choice."_

 ** _"_** ** _Let's hope Thorin agrees with that,"_** she replied, but Gandalf wasn't listening anymore.

The Dwarves really were very slow, she loped alongside them effortlessly as they grunted and panted. _Why do you only have two legs?_ she wondered. Four was so much better.

She was very grateful to Radagast for focusing the pack's attention on him, because otherwise they would have been caught already. Speaking of which…

She felt rather than heard the warg leap onto the boulder they were currently hiding against, noticing the vibrations as the beast walked around, sniffing where his prey had gone. It was only a matter of time before they were found. Unless…

 ** _"_** ** _There's one above us,"_** she told Thorin. Now that the panting of the Dwarves grew a little less, he could hear it growling and snarling. He found Kíli's gaze and looked pointedly at his bow. The prince got the hint, concentrated for a moment, then took a few steps forward while turning to face his enemy. He aimed for a split second, then released the arrow.

By unlucky coincidence, the warg moved a little, sending the arrow into its side instead of straight into the heart as Kíli had planned. It roared in pain, snapping at the arrow as if it was an annoying insect before losing its footing and tumbling down the side of the boulder, producing a terrible amount of noise as it went. Once it hit the ground, its rider scrambled to his feet and lunged at the Dwarves, knife in hand and screeching with anger, adding to the racket already echoing off the rocks. The Dwarves pouncing upon the two didn't do so very quietly either, and out of instinct she flattened her ears against her head as if that could block out the deafening noise.

Finally, the Orc and warg were dead and there was silence again. Not even the howling and snarling of the other wargs, which she took as a bad sign.

After two seconds, she heard one of the Orcs shout out something in their own disgusting language. She didn't understand a word, but the new chorus of howls that were getting louder and nearer by the second told her enough.

She looked at Gandalf who had evidently reached the same conclusion, for he yelled: "Move! RUN!"

And so they ran again. But they were so slow, it didn't take too much calculation to realize they would never be able to stay clear of the pack, which was rapidly closing in on them. So she broke away from them and sped up, breaking into a run. She could hear the Dwarves yelling behind her not to leave them, but she ignored them.

Finally running as fast as she could, she circled back around the pack so she ended up with the pack in between her and the Company. Then she took a moment to catch her breath, threw her head back and produced a lengthy howl that made every warg on the plain pause and look back.

On the other side of the pack, Gandalf heard it too and smiled upon recognizing the sound. "Good girl," he muttered inaudibly. The howl was a mating call, a sign to any warg in the vicinity that there was a female in heat nearby. More or less anyway, the scent was missing, the one thing she couldn't fake. But she was keeping them distracted, and it might buy them the time they needed to reach their destination.

Because unlike the rest of the Company, who were following him blindly, Skyfire knew he was not leading them randomly around the plain. She knew where they were going, and that it was nearby.

The wargs without riders were confused, some standing still, torn between where to go, others hesitantly stepping in her direction. But the wargs with riders, after an initial hesitation, were chasing the Dwarves again, urged on by their riders. The lone wargs followed suit, driven by their pack instincts and she couldn't keep them occupied any more. So she shrugged, unfolded her wings and leapt into the air.

As she flew towards the Company, she considered breathing fire on the wargs she saw running beneath her, but dismissed the idea. The grass was very dry, and one errant spark could cause the entire plain to light up in an uncontrollable sea of flames.

She did knock one or two riders off their wargs, grabbing onto them from behind and tearing off their heads before they could fight back, but some of them had bows and she didn't want to risk getting hit and plummeting down towards certain death.

She could see them now, and they weren't doing very well. From her high point of view, she saw wargs closing in on them from all sides. She couldn't see Gandalf, but she trusted him, so she came down to aid the Dwarves in their fight.

"We're surrounded!" she heard on her left, but she didn't have time to turn around and see who it was. Two wargs were in front of her, small, cruel eyes focused on her. She flared her wings, flashing them red and yellow, and roared. That kept them at bay for now, but other than that there was little she could do. Somewhere right of her, she heard arrows whizzing and saw wargs falling, and she knew Kíli was putting his bow to good use. But how many arrows did he have left?

"Can't you do something?" asked Thorin, who as it turned out was standing beside her.

"Like turning this whole place into a torch? Bad idea," she growled back at him. _Gandalf, now would be a good time to show up…_

"Hold your ground!" Thorin bellowed, brandishing his Elvish sword.

Then, as the wargs got ever closer and she began wondering whether they would all make it out alive, she heard the most wonderful sound in the world: "This way, you fools!"

Gandalf had finally found the entrance.

One by one, the Dwarves disappeared down a crack in the rocks until only she, Thorin and Kíli were left outside. Thorin was guarding the entrance, Kíli was emptying his quiver and she was turning every colour of the rainbow.

"Kíli!" his uncle bellowed, and Kíli looked back, seemingly shocked that he was the only Dwarf still standing in the middle of the plain. He turned and began running, far too slowly, in the direction of the crack.

He was never going to make it, so she flapped her wings to rise a few meters, banked right so she was flying behind him and grabbed onto his shoulders with her talons. His legs flailed as the ground flew by beneath him and maybe she was crushing his shoulders a little, but he probably preferred a bruised shoulder as opposed to being torn to shreds.

She dropped him down into the crack, waited for Thorin to slide in and then slipped in herself, digging her claws into the rocky slide so she didn't fall to the bottom and keeping her eyes on what was happening around them. She turned her head and eyes a rocky grey so no one could see her from outside. She heard a familiar horn.

 ** _"_** ** _Incoming!"_** she warned Thorin, just before swinging to the side as the body of an Orc came tumbling down the slide. She heard Thorin spat out what she had already seen, "Elves."

As the happenings around them quieted down, she focused her attention back into the cave they were in as Dwalin yelled: "I cannot see where the pathway leads. Do we follow it or no?"

"Follow it, of course!" decided Bofur, before anyone else could utter a peep. As that seemed indeed the most logical and safe course, they began following the narrow path winding between two high cliffs. She was again the last to go, steeling herself for a moment before following behind Kíli.

The path was too narrow for her to spread her wings, so after scraping them against the rocks once she folded them tightly and squeezed them against her sides. She tried to keep her tail as straight as possible and forced herself to focus on the small streak of blue air she could see above her.

"What's gotten into you?" she heard from ahead, and saw Kíli looking at her over his shoulder.

"I don't…like tight spaces," she managed to get out. _Breathe, breathe, it's gonna be fine._

"Really? You've got claustrophobia?" Kíli asked. That was probably the technical term for it, so she nodded nervously.

"Well, I suppose that would make sense," Kíli mused thoughtfully. She didn't know if he was talking to her or just to himself, but she decided to react anyway. Anything to distract her from her current situation.

"Why?" she asked. Why was her voice sounding so small?

"Well, what with the open sky being the exact opposite to this," he said, motioning to her wings.

"Yeah, maybe…" she trailed off, beginning to feel it, a familiar feeling of powerful magic, and looking ahead she saw the opening. She began walking just a little faster, desperate to get away from this cramped feeling. She turned around a corner and breathed in relief as she took in the familiar sight.

Before them lay a valley, surrounded by waterfalls, with a few buildings at the bottom. An immense sense of peace radiated from the settlement (one could hardly call it a city) as its many trees swayed gently in the afternoon breeze. The wind carried the sound of flowing water up to where they stood gazing at it.

"The valley of Imladris," Gandalf announced, and she could feel the turmoil beginning to stir within Thorin. "In the Common Tongue, it is known by another name." And Bilbo gave the answer: "Rivendell."

But she had another name for it, a name known only to a few. _Home._


	18. Seventeen

**17**

She watched as Gandalf was greeted by an unknown Elf, who was discreetly ignoring the fact that thirteen Dwarves, one Hobbit and herself had just come barging into his home and now stood, huddled defensively together, in the courtyard.

"Mithrandir," the Elf said, greeting Gandalf by bringing his hand to his heart and then forward in a traditional Elvish gesture.

"Ah, Lindir," replied the Wizard in the same fashion. She didn't know Lindir, but apparently Gandalf did, and she was fine with letting Gandalf do the talking, as he had warned them to before they entered.

 _"_ _If we are to be successful," he'd said, "this will need to be handled with tact. And respect. And no small degree of charm. Which is why you," here he had looked sternly at Thorin, "will leave the talking to me."_

As Thorin, she was beginning to realize, especially among Elves, possessed all the tact, respect and charm of a blunt axe, this seemed quite a sensible thing to do.

"We heard you had crossed into the Valley," said Lindir in Sindarin, which she understood, but the Dwarves did not. She contemplated translating for Thorin, but decided against it. After all, he was not the one spoken to.

She kept one ear tuned in to the conversation, while keeping the rest of her attention focused on Thorin, whose hatred for Elves was battling his worry for the Company's safety. He seemed very tempted to turn around, leave Rivendell and take his chances out on the plain again, when the matter was taken out of his hands.

The same horn they had heard about half an hour earlier sounded again, much closer this time, and when she turned around with the rest of the Dwarves she saw an Elvish cavalry approaching the courtyard at high speed.

Thorin reacted before anyone else could, shouting something in Dwarvish that she didn't catch, but the wave of enmity suddenly coming off him made her freeze for a moment, torn between siding with the Dwarves or the Elves. In the end, she avoided them altogether by leaping into a tree standing at the edge of the courtyard and settling on a branch to follow the scene without taking sides.

Thorin pulled Bilbo closer towards the middle of the Dwarves clustered together while bellowing: "Close ranks!". She watched as they formed into a tight circle with their weapons pointed outwards, the whole manoeuvre very much reminding her of a hedgehog curling up. When the Elves reached them, they began circling the intruders on their horses, which only served to heighten the tension in the air. Finally, the cavalry came to a halt, surrounding the Dwarves from all sides and waiting for them to make their next move.

The silence stretched on, the Dwarves frantically trying to think up a way to escape this predicament without getting killed, and the Elves sitting on their horses like statues, looking down on the newcomers with unreadable expressions.

At last, one of the Elves ended the impasse by swinging sideways off his horse, walking past thirteen pairs of eyes following him suspiciously, handing his sword to Lindir and greeting the Wizard by saying the latter's name.

"Lord Elrond," said Gandalf, sounding relieved, before continuing in Sindarin. "My friend! Where have you been?"

"We've been hunting a pack of Orcs that came up from the South," the Elf responded in the same language (she could see the Dwarves getting uneasy). "We slew a number near the Hidden Pass."

Now the Dwarves had started murmuring amongst each other, and Elrond must have noticed, for he continued in the Common Tongue: "Strange, for Orcs to come so close to our borders. Something, or someone, has drawn them near." He looked pointedly at the Wizard, who replied a little sheepishly: "Uh, that may have been us."

At last, Elrond turned his attention to the Dwarves and Thorin stepped forward. After a moment of silence, Elrond greeted him: "Welcome Thorin, son of Thráin."

"I do not believe we have met," said her Dwarf-companion, unable to completely hide the surprise in his voice.

"You have your grandfather's bearing," said Elrond matter-of-factly, before continuing in a slightly disapproving voice: "I knew Thrór, when he ruled under the Mountain."

Thorin picked up the tone and was quick to respond. "Indeed? He made no mention of you."

 ** _"_** ** _Careful!"_** she hissed at Thorin as some of the Dwarves gasped audibly. Elrond's eyes narrowed at him, but otherwise the Elf ignored the insult as he directed his next words at the entire Company.

"Nartho i noer, toltho i viruvor. Boe i annam vann a nethail vin."

 ** _"_** ** _Light the fires, fetch the wine. We must feed our guests,"_** she translated on Thorin's behalf as a wave of relief washed over her. Since this was definitely directed at the Dwarves, she felt a translation was in order.

 _"_ _You can speak Elvish?"_ asked Thorin, sounding astonished and a little bit greedy. She didn't like it, but answered anyway: **_"Somewhat. My Sindarin's pretty good, but I only know a few phrases of Quenya."_**

She felt he didn't quite understand, but before she could answer Glóin spoke up, sounding rather aggravated. "What does he say? Does he offer us _insult_?!"

"No, Master Glóin," Gandalf explained in an increasingly exasperated tone, "he's offering you food."

After a quick discussion amongst themselves, they decided their distrust of Elves did not stretch out to any food they could provide. "Oh. Well, in that case: lead on!"

Elrond made to turn around, but stopped in his tracks when he saw a fleck of purple amongst dark green leaves. After a moment, he was able to make out her shape in the tree, and extended his right hand towards her with the palm up.

She blinked, purple eyes speckling with green, then slowly made her way out of the tree, keeping her eyes locked on Elrond's the whole time. Careful not to make any sudden movements, she made her way over to him as if she were stalking prey. As she reached him, he withdrew his hand.

For a moment, neither moved and neither looked away, but both seemed ready to bolt. Then, she set her hind paws further under her body, stretched out her tail, and pulled her front paws off the ground. For a moment she stood, a solid head above him, front paws tucked against her chest as she maintained a precarious balance on her two hind legs using her tail as counterweight. Then she extended her front paws towards him and gently put one on each shoulder.

She looked deep into his eyes and saw the question there. But there was much to explain and not the right words to say it, so instead she pressed her forehead against Elrond's and poured memories, thoughts and emotions into his mind.

She could see his confusion as he tried to make sense of the information flooding his mind, but now was not the time, so she highlighted the most important things for now:

 _She has travelled with these Dwarves._

 _She will continue to do so._

 _Nothing he says or does will change this._

She saw his eyes widen just a little, but then he took a step backward and she dropped to all fours again. For a moment, he looked into her black eyes, then he stepped aside, and she ran past him and leapt off the platform to soar above Rivendell.

* * *

She set down next to a small lake fed by a high waterfall. As the water crashed down next to her, she sat looking at Rivendell for a long time. Her eyes changed colour too fast to keep up, but there was a fair amount of blue.

Thorin must have felt her warring emotions, for he sent her a questioning thought. Angry, she brushed him aside like a leaf in a storm. _No._

She shook her head to focus on other things, then walked over to the edge of the pond. She knew Elves, so she had some fishing to do before re-joining the Company.

A big white fish was stupid enough to take a rest underneath the overhanging rock she was perched on. Motionless and poised to strike, she waited for the fish to relax, gently swaying in the current. She focused on the image of the fish beneath her, seeing it in her mind, ten slipped her third eyelid over her eyes and, like a heron, plunged her open mouth into the water, closing her jaws around where she knew the fish was even though water was splashing everywhere and she couldn't see it.

She felt her teeth sink into wriggling flesh and tasted blood, and suddenly the water was swirling with scarlet. She pulled her head out of the water and threw her catch onto the dry shore, where it flopped for a few more moments while she shook her head and pulled her eyelids back, then lay still. She swallowed it whole.

That would settle her stomach for the time being. She lapped up some water before taking to the air again.

* * *

Elrond had seated the Dwarves on a large balcony overlooking the valley. She landed in the tree standing next to it, and smiled at the Dwarves greeting her from below. She vanished her wings and, lying down, made herself comfortable on the branch, her tail dangling off it.

There were two very low tables, laden with (vegetarian) food and occupied by the Company, while Elrond himself sat at a third, higher table with Thorin and Gandalf, apparently his guests of honour. They seemed to be discussing the swords they had found in the troll-cave. Elrond was explaining the swords' apparently famous history, but in her opinion a sword, or any weapon really, was only as good as the one who wielded it, so whatever they _had_ done did not particularly interest her.

A few Elves were wandering about, serving their guests, while others were providing entertainment in the form of music. She saw one Elf playing a long flute, while three others played stringed instruments of which she recognized only one as a harp. Together, they produced that flowing, gentle music so typical of Elves. It always calmed her, but also made her feel sleepy, and she decided, as she laid her head down on her front legs and turned her ears back lazily, eyelids starting to droop, that she maybe preferred the lively music of the Dwarves.

And speaking of…

She was roused again by a clattering sound that didn't fit into the hypnotic atmosphere the music created. Looking down, she saw Bofur clambering onto the table, shoving off any dishes that were in his way as he went.

Conversation and music alike ceased abruptly as the Dwarf began to sing:

 _Theeeerrre'sss aaaaaannnn…  
Inn, there's an inn, there's a merry old inn  
Beneath an old grey hill  
And there they brew a beer so brown  
The Man in the Moon himself came down  
One night to drink his fill_

This was clearly not the first time, because all the Dwarves were soon shouting along, meanwhile pelting the undeterred singer with uneaten food. Bofur had a nice, cheery voice, if not as deep as Thorin, she thought, recalling his song at Bag End.

 _Ooooohh, the ostler has a tipsy cat  
That plays a five-stringed fiddle  
And up and down he saws his bow  
Now squeaking hiiiiigh  
Now purrrrring looooww  
Now sawing in the middle_

Now they began chucking food at each other too, and at their hosts as well. She saw a piece of potato fly between Elrond and Gandalf, the latter of whom gave the first a apologizing and slightly embarrassed look. Bofur was bouncing on top of the table along to the tune, and she found her tail doing the same, banging against the trunk of the tree. She ducked as Kíli threw a bit of salad at her, grinning at him.

 _Soooo…the cat with the fiddle  
Played hey-diddle-diddle  
A jig that'll wake the dead  
He squeaked and he sawed and he quickened the tune  
And the landlord shook the Man in the Moon  
"It's after three," he said!_

Loud cheering greeted the end of the song and she joined in with the laughter, giggling at the look on Elrond's face. The Elf-lord looked as if he couldn't decide whether to laugh or shout.

* * *

She wasn't surprised that the Dwarves were herded off to their chambers shortly after. She jumped down from the tree and went with them. Gandalf stayed behind with Elrond, and she only gave them a short glance before following the Dwarves.

They were given luxurious chambers, complete with a large space for them to sit together, plus unlimited access to all of Rivendell's facilities.

Their stuff was still at their previous campsite, having been abandoned in a hurry to go wrestle with the trolls, but they decided unanimously to go back for them tomorrow, as it was too dark now. One by one, the Dwarves left the common area to go find themselves a bed, until only she and Thorin were left. Thorin was looking, brooding, into the fire and she was gazing out over Rivendell.

 _"_ _What's he like?"_ he asked suddenly. She turned around in surprise, he usually preferred to speak out loud, but apparently he didn't want to be overheard. **_"Who?"_**

 _"_ _Elrond."_

She thought for a moment. **_"Wise,"_** she said. Then, **_"Reasonable. Why?"_**

He tried to hide it, but she caught on to his little dilemma anyway. Part of him refused to accept any help from Elves, whilst another part knew they had to decipher the map or risk a dead end at the foot of the Mountain.

 ** _"_** ** _Just because one apple is rotten doesn't mean the whole tree is,"_** she said, then smiled. **_"It could just be a bad apple."_** She refrained from saying the Dwarves hadn't exactly always treated the Elves respectfully either.

 _"_ _Hmph."_ After a pause, _"He seems different from other Elves I've met."_

 ** _"_** ** _How so?"_**

 _"_ _Less…haughty."_

 ** _"_** ** _Could be. He's half Elf, half Man."_**

 _"_ _What?"_ he sounded astonished and disbelieving. _"I thought they were myths."_

That annoyed her. **_"Just because you've never seen something before doesn't mean it doesn't exist. I'll bet you'd never seen anything like me before, but that didn't mean I just popped into existence a moment before you laid eyes on me."_**

He was taken aback by the anger he felt from her. As she looked at him, he noticed something funny. While the rest of her body had become increasingly shadowed as the night fell, her eyes stayed as if they were in broad daylight. The result were two sunset-red circles glaring at him, while the rest of her body was covered with night. They seemed to glow, yet no light shone from them.

When he didn't say anything, she growled softly so as not to wake anyone. **_"Best keep your eyes and mind open. There are many things in Rivendell that will surprise you."_**

After a while, her eyes turned to a soft orange, which he took as a sign it was safe to dare another question. _"How do you know Elrond?"_

This time, she snarled loud enough to make him take a few steps backward before he could stop himself. The sound ripped through the dark night, causing shuffling sounds to arise from the chambers behind him where the Company was sleeping, as some of the Dwarves woke up and looked around worriedly.

He thought he saw a flash of blue in her eyes, but then she had turned away from him. Wings sprouting from her back, she gruffly said, **_"I'm going to sleep,"_** before taking off.

* * *

She landed on the roof of one of the buildings, it could be the library, she wasn't sure.

She hadn't really been angry with him, he was just so narrow-minded at times that it made her feel desperate and a little lonely. But the last question he asked her… _He had no right to be poking into my past like that._

She sighed. Elrond did not appreciate it when she made scorch marks on the buildings, so instead of circlefiring she flopped down on the patch of roof last touched by the sun before it went down. It was still a little warm.

She yawned. She really was tired. All the fighting and running around had made her feel exhausted, and the Elvish music from earlier made it worse. Her head felt heavy, and her eyes ached.

She was safer than she had been for the past few weeks. She could sleep here.

She curled up and drifted off into her dreams. They were weird as only dreams could be. Wild, fuzzy images made up by twisted logic, strung together by harp music dancing through her mind like a leaf in a stream.


	19. Eighteen

**Author's Note**

 **Silversun XD: Thanks for the review! Don't worry, I have every intention of finishing the story, it just might take a while.**

 **Some of the Rivendell-chapters are going to be pretty important, but this one is mostly just for fun :)**

* * *

 **18**

Fíli and Kíli were annoyed.

They had been wandering around Rivendell for nearly an hour now, and still hadn't found the kitchens.

"Why did _we_ have to be the ones to go to the kitchens and get food?" Kíli complained to his brother, who only rolled his eyes.

It was true though. While the Elves had declared yesterday that they would have full access to all of Rivendell's facilities, including the kitchens, they had neglected to mention where exactly said facilities were to be found. After proclaiming that asking an Elf for directions was beneath him, Thorin had set his sister-sons to the task of locating the kitchens and retrieving some food.

The Elves certainly weren't helping, barely sparing the brothers a glance as they passed, and they were too stubborn to ask the route to the kitchens anyway.

When they gazed down upon the settlement from above yesterday, it hadn't seemed so big at all. Yet now they found themselves passing underneath the same archway for what felt like the tenth time. To make matters worse, Rivendell had clearly been designed for Elves, and so the staircases were much steeper than they were used to, resulting in an awful cramping in their calves.

"Do you even think we could find our way back?" asked Kíli.

Automatically, his brother glanced around, as if hoping to come across a sign saying: "This way!" No such sign was to be found, he did however see something else.

Elbowing his brother in the side, he pointed at the roof of a building in front of them. "Is that what I think it is?"

Kíli squinted over where his brother was pointing. For a moment, his eyes narrowed, then they flew open and he smiled in relief. "Maybe she can help us out!"

Dangling off the side of the building was a long tail with a furry knob at the end.

* * *

It took them a while to reach the roof. Skyfire had probably flown up in a moment, but as they didn't have wings they had to climb into a tree and clamber onto the roof from there.

Once they got there, another surprise was waiting for them.

"Is she _sleeping_?" whispered Kíli.

Whenever she had rested on the road, she'd curled up into a tight circle with her ears perked up. Now, they were down and she was stretched out on her side, her legs splayed out. In the silence following Kíli's words, they could even hear her snoring softly.

"Seems like it," Fíli muttered. "I guess she had to recharge."

A mischievous grin spread across Kíli's face. "Come on, let's wake her up!"

"No!" hissed Fíli, stepping forward quickly to grab his brother's arm. "The last time I tried, she attacked me!"

Kíli rolled his eyes, not even bothering to keep his voice down. "Oh, come on, look at her! She's fast asleep!"

"I _said_ ," a voice caused them both to jump, "I was asleep. Not comatose."

She was awake, legs under her and her head up, eyes blinking sleepily at them.

Fíli's hand flew to the handle of one of his many daggers. She was quite unpredictable, and he wouldn't put it past her to knock them off the roof for waking her up. However, she seemed to be in a very good mood today, yawning loudly then stretching lazily before finally getting up.

"Morning," she said, as she sat down to scratch behind her ear with a hind leg like a dog would. "What're you up to?"

Kíli was of course the first to respond. "Uncle sent us to the kitchens to get food, but we can't seem to find them. We were hoping you could show us the way?"

"Sure," she said, while walking towards the edge of the roof, her tail sliding across the surface behind her like a snake.

Despite having seen it many times now, the sight of wings sprouting from her back was still an unnerving sight. Her chest expanded to accommodate flight muscles that hadn't been there before, and as the morning sun shone through the stretching membranes they could see the complex web of thin veins fanning out across them.

She spread her wings and leapt off the roof. That they had gotten used to, so they walked easily up to the edge to see her glide at least ten metres before touching down on solid ground. She took a few running steps to take the speed out, then folded her wings and looked up at them expectantly.

The Dwarves sighed, half wishing they had wings like that so they didn't have to climb all the way down again.

Their descent went fairly well, except for the fact that Kíli missed the last branch and dropped two metres down. Luckily he managed to break his fall by rolling away, and by the time Fíli reached him with a worried expression on his face, he was on his feet again and wearing a reassuring smile.

They walked around the building to see their newfound guide sitting in exactly the same spot where they left her, waiting calmly for them to make their way over. Once they were about a metre away, however, she sprang to her feet and bounded off.

The two Dwarves set off after her, following her all around Rivendell. She didn't exactly use the common walkways, instead walking on walls, balancing on dubious ledges like a cat and hopping onto decorative rocks they were fairly certain were not meant for hopping on.

Afraid of losing their only chance of finding the way (for she did seem to know where she was going), they scrambled after her, clambering onto everything she leapt onto and trying very hard to keep their balance on small ledges she ran across with such ease.

"Are we almost there?" panted Fíli, as they made their way over to where she sat waiting on a raised platform. Every time they thought they'd lost her, they'd find her waiting just around the corner. Once they got close however, she ran off again, never giving them quite enough time to catch their breath.

This time though, she stayed where she was until they reached her, then opened a door nearby and _walked_ through. They followed, and after about an hour and a half, _finally_ found themselves in the kitchens.

The first thing to hit them was the delicious smell of fresh-baked bread. They spotted some loaves lying neatly next to each other on a shelf, hot air wafting from them as they cooled off, spreading that mouth-watering smell. A kettle was hanging above a fire, and they heard a soft spluttering of soup inside. There were cabinets stacked with delicate Elvish cutlery and boxes full with exotic-looking fruit they had never seen before. They did notice an absolute lack of meat though. The only food looking animal-related was a crate full of eggs.

There were several Elves at work, cutting fruit and kneading dough. They looked up when the door opened, but upon seeing who had entered went back to work, conversing quietly amongst themselves in Elvish.

Skyfire didn't pay them any mind either, stepping around determinedly and grabbing things here and there, while motioning for the Dwarves to do the same. So they wandered around a bit, hesitantly at first, and picked things that looked appetizing. Skyfire added some stuff they didn't recognize but which must be edible, and they gathered everything on a wooden table.

Only then, because they hadn't expected there to be so much variety, did they find themselves faced with the question of how to transport the intimidating pile of food on the table. They'd only brought one bag, in which they could probably put half of their food. The prospect of making two trips was not particularly inviting, since she'd swept through Rivendell so fast they hadn't actually memorized the way and she probably couldn't be persuaded to take them on again.

She solved that problem for them, fortunately, by walking to a door in the wall and pushing it open, revealing a stash of woven baskets in different sizes. She picked out a few, slipping the handles onto her tail like rings on a lance and walked back to them.

In the end, they managed to take everything in one trip. Fíli filled the bag and slung it over his shoulder, Kíli grabbed the biggest basket and she decided to help out by taking the remaining two and setting them on her back, between her wings to keep them in place.

The way back took about fifteen minutes.

During that time, she stayed on the ground with them and they chatted lightly. They steered clear of the blatantly obvious question of how she knew Rivendell so well. Instead, she asked where they had come from and learned they were from Ered Luin, or the Blue Mountains in the Common Tongue. Their mother Dís was Thorin's sister. She hadn't come on the trip, but she'd made her brother promise to return her sons safely to her, and she'd given her sons a runestone each to remind them of that promise.

They showed them to her, identical dark greenish oval pebbles with funny runes engraved. She couldn't read those, but the Dwarves told her it meant something like "Remember and come back to me."

She nodded, privately deciding to ask one of the Dwarves to teach her Dwarvish. It bothered her not to be able to read this or converse with Bifur, who spoke _only_ Dwarvish and as such was an incomprehensible riddle to her.

Then Fíli nudged his brother and teased: "Too bad Tiph didn't give you one, huh?"

Kíli stomped him on the shoulder, muttering "Shut up!" while averting his eyes. She could see him growing red in the face.

"Who's Tiph?" she asked in general, but it was Fíli who answered as Kíli seemed too busy studying his toes.

"Kíli's girlfriend," the older brother said. "Pretty girl, reddish hair, blue eyes. Daughter of a miner. Kíli's had a crush on her for as long as I can remember, but she never seems to notice him." He looked at his brother, who was flaming red by now. "Cheer up! Once you're a proper prince, she's bound to notice you!"

She just nodded vaguely. Having never been in love herself, she didn't have any experience in these matters.

Kíli was spared the rest of a possible embarrassing conversation because they rounded a corner and the Company came into view. They all sprang to their feet at the sight of food, but Thorin was the first one to reach them and he wasn't staring at the food at all. He was looking at his nephews with an expression in his eyes that she might have mistaken for anger if she hadn't sensed worry in his mind.

"Where have you _been_?" he demanded. "It's been two hours!"

"It, uh…took a while to reach the kitchens," Fíli mumbled sheepishly, not meeting his uncle's eyes.

Thorin was about to say something else, but she intervened, communicating with him directly. **_"It's not their fault. Rivendell's a bit of a maze."_**

 _"_ _You took them?"_

 ** _"_** ** _Yes."_**

He looked at her for a few moments, during which Fíli and Kíli shot them and each other confused looks. Finally, he looked at them again, waving his hand dismissively. "Get that to Bombur," he said. Hardly believing they got off that easily, they hauled the baskets off her back and over to Bombur.

 _"_ _I don't suppose I could convince you to get our stuff from camp?"_ Thorin asked once they'd scuttled off.

 ** _"_** ** _Nope,"_** she replied, pleased to see he was learning. She wasn't a donkey, after all.

He grumbled something. Feeling benevolent, she added, **_"I'd be willing to keep an eye out while you get it."_**

He looked at her, and after a moment of self-control, said _"Fine."_ Then, with even more of an effort: _"Thanks."_

 ** _"_** ** _You're welcome."_** She jumped into the air, circling upwards and away from him. _ **"Well? Are you coming?"**_

* * *

After scanning the area, she came down to hover in front of where the Dwarves were climbing out of the crack in the rocks that led to the Valley. "All clear, go on."

As they crossed the plains toward the woods where they had made camp a few nights ago and all their stuff was still strewn about, she climbed a little higher until she found a comfortable flow of air to glide upon for a while. Making sure she kept an eye open to spot any unwanted visitors, she hooked her tail and let the wind carry her along.

High up in the sky, her mind began to wander. She realized she'd grown fond of the Dwarves, and attached to them, no matter how much she'd tried to keep her distance. _Damn._

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. As long as she didn't keep everything cooped up inside of her, she might…be able to…prevent… _No._ She shook her head to stop the flow of deeply buried images and memories from replaying themselves before her eyes. Never again. She had to be more careful. She couldn't ever let anyone into her heart ever again. It was too dangerous. _She_ was too dangerous.

In an effort to distract herself, she played one of her favourite flying games. She unhooked her tail and folded her wings shut, ending her glide and sending her into a nosedive towards the ground. She closed her eyes to feel the air whipping past her as the wind and gravity fought for control.

After what felt like eternity but was probably only a few seconds, she felt the familiar ripple run up her spine and she opened her wings to give victory to the wind, letting it carry her to a safe height once again.

It was always an exhilarating feeling and she knew she would never tire of it. As she closed her wings and went down again, she reburied the images deep inside the dark maze of her memory.


	20. Nineteen

**Author's Note**

 **Silversun XD: Good guess! (I'm not saying it's correct though)**

 **Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

 **19**

After they retrieved everything, Bombur went to make dinner out of the food they'd brought with them that morning, while the rest of the Dwarves just lazed around for a bit.

She'd come down too after a while, and the moment she landed and curled up to listen to the quiet conversations around her, Fíli and Kíli came over. She wasn't particularly interested in company right now, but they were young and they didn't mean it bad, so she let them approach with only a flicker of orange in her eyes.

They crouched down in front of her, seemingly hesitant about how to begin. She stared at them, still as a statue.

Fíli opened his mouth, closed it again, and tried once more. "Hey, umm…Thanks."

She blinked at him.

"I don't know what you said to Uncle earlier, but you covered for us, didn't you?"

 _Oh, that._

"He gets really worried about us sometimes," Kíli piped up. "Thinks we can't look after ourselves."

She snorted out a small puff of smoke.

"I know we can," Kíli said, misinterpreting. "But, to prevent this morning from happening again, we were thinking…"

He trailed off. She rumbled gently, cocking her head to the side.

"Could you maybe give us a tour of the place?" asked Fíli.

Her left ear twitched. She got up and walked towards the buildings. They stayed where they were, not knowing if that meant she agreed. But when she stopped and looked back at them, they got up and hurried after her.

* * *

This time she did use the common walkways, and when Kíli made a comment about it she turned her head towards him and gave him a toothy smirk.

They walked slowly up and down the paths, and whenever they came upon something of interest she'd tell them, pointing her nose at it like a hunting dog without ever making a sound.

 ** _"_** ** _Fountain."_**

 ** _"_** ** _Kitchens."_**

 ** _"_** ** _Library."_**

The first few times they felt her presence in their minds it had scared the heck out of them, but by the time they got to **_"Storage"_** , they'd gotten used to it and even began to think back _"What's in there?"_ to which she responded with a vague **_"All sorts of things."_**

The first time she took a turn from the path was at ** _"Garden"_**. She walked underneath an old archway and showed them a large open space which held a vegetable garden, some trees and all sorts of exotic flowers and fruits.

As she walked forward, she pulled out of their minds and the tip of her tail began emitting a soft glow. It did not take them long to notice something very strange happening.

As she walked, she inevitably brushed against a leaf or a stem here or there. Before their very eyes, those plants that she touched began growing and maturing at an extraordinary rate, so that she left a wake of green leaves, ripe fruits and blooming flowers behind. All those flowers attracted swarms of insects, causing it to be almost impossible to shout "How are you doing that?" over the buzzing.

She turned around to look calmly at them, bustling life surrounding her from all sides. "I have no idea. It just happens."

They sat down on a bench next to a sprinkling fountain as she made her way over to them. "There is magic inside of me," she said, looking out over the garden. _And I have to let it out, or…_ She stopped herself and shook her head. _No._

They hadn't noticed, busy as they were watching her handiwork with their mouths hanging open.

She stifled a laugh at the sight. "It's not all me, though," she said, walking over to one of the trees. She reached up and lightly pressed her nose against something looking like a green pear. Once it had enlarged and turned yellow, she plucked it and brought it over. "These grow here because of Elvish magic."

"What is that?" asked Fíli, while Kíli just looked at the fruit with a confused and slightly wary expression on his face.

"A mango." Seeing that they apparently didn't know it, she added "It's a tropical fruit, so it shouldn't be growing up here."

(In their defence, it should be noted that the Dwarves of Erebor hadn't exactly been living a life of luxury since their banishment. And while Fíli and Kíli had received an excellent education, their lessons had been mostly about the history, politics and general culture of Dwarves. Exotic fruits had not been part of the curriculum.)

"It's good," she said, pushing the fruit over to them. "Try it."

They did, hesitantly at first, but with more enthusiasm as the mango grew smaller. While they ate it, she pointed out some other unfamiliar fruits. **_"Papaya. Pineapple. Avocado. Banana. Melon."_** Some of them they recognized from the kitchens this morning. They secretly wondered if Bombur knew what to make of them.

She ended the botany lesson after a while, having made a decision. She got up and said, "Come on. There's something else I want to show you."

* * *

This time she crossed Rivendell considerably faster, though fortunately still by path. Five minutes after they had left the garden, she came to a quite abrupt halt in front of another archway, leading to a sort of roofed platform where something looking like a white-toothed black closet stood.

They immediately found out it was a kind of musical instrument, as she tapped a few of the teeth-like tiles and produced a plinking sound. Apparently dissatisfied, she huffed and clambered onto the top of the box, flipping open the lid and rummaging around inside it for a moment. Then she dropped it again and jumped off.

She settled on her flat feet in front of the teeth, like a rabbit, and put her front paws on the teeth.

She played a simple melody, though she didn't sing, until Kíli came closer. "What is it?"

"It's a pi-anno," she said (Elrond had explained it to her a long time ago when she hadn't been as good with Elvish dialect as she was now). "Want to try?"

She showed him how to produce a few simple tones, then played the more complex version herself.

"What else can you do?" asked Fíli. She smiled, and produced a more up-tempo song that sounded harder than it was. She enjoyed their awed looks.

Elsewhere in Rivendell, unbeknownst to them, Elrond raised his head and smiled, equally sadly and fondly.

After a while, Kíli said, "We play the fiddle, you know. But Uncle wouldn't let us bring them. Said the outside would be bad for the strings and that we'd be calling unwanted attention to ourselves by playing in the middle of the wilderness."

She looked at him with an unreadable golden-blue expression, then motioned to a door nearby. "Check in there."

When they opened the door, they found an extensive collection of instruments inside. Much to their joy, apart from trumpets, tubas, drums and tiled instruments in all shapes and sizes, they also found a wide variety of stringed instruments including fiddles. They picked out two, set down to tune them and then went back.

For the next hour or so, they clowned around musically. She'd play a ditty on the pi-anno and they'd try to copy it on a fiddle or the other way around. The result was always hilarious and she couldn't help loving all of it.

Finally, Fíli looked at the sun, saw that it was late in the afternoon, and said they should be getting back. The ten minutes back passed in amiable silence.

* * *

Back at camp, she explained to a number of bemused Dwarves that Elves were vegetarians, and as such didn't have any meat in the kitchens they could get (they'd been looking hopefully at her, but she refused them saying there was nothing wrong with a vegetarian meal every now and then).

"I'd kill for a good steak," Kíli groaned dramatically.

She not-so-accidentally whacked him on the head with a wing as she stretched them. "Go do that, then."

He looked at her. "You mean hunting? Won't they mind?"

She stared pointedly at his bow. "I do it too. As long as you don't wave it in their faces, they won't mind…much."

* * *

She groaned as she heard yet another twig snap.

How did that Dwarf ever manage to catch _anything_ when he was trampling through the woods like a mûmak? In the last ten minutes, he had somehow managed to kick five pebbles, rustle three bushes and step on at least ten twigs.

How was it _possible_ that she had double the feet on the ground, was at least twice as big and _still_ managed to make less noise than him?

SNAP.

 _Urrrrghh_.

"Are you even _trying_ to be quiet?" she asked, not really bothering to keep her voice down because he was chasing away everything within a fifty-metre-radius anyways.

If she'd been less annoyed, maybe she'd seen the hurt in his eyes. Instead, she realized there was only one solution. She groaned again.

"This isn't working. Hop on."

He looked warily at her, probably remembering the last time he tried to ride her.

She rolled her eyes. "One-time offer. Hop. On."

He did. The first thing he noticed was that she was hot, like she was running a boiling fever. The second thing was that as soon as he sat (she didn't have her wings out, so he was sitting on her back rather than on her shoulders) she…somehow…pulled him out of his body?

It was…indescribably weird. He could no longer feel her muscles moving under him, or the weight of his quiver on his back. Instead, he registered _her_ physical sensations as if they were his own.

He saw the forest through sharp eyes, noticing every little detail. He heard every soft sound the forest had to offer through ears that he could feel moving around. He smelled a thousand smells at once and the mind whose body he was sharing supplied him with their meaning: _Rain. Woodlice. Dead leaves. Fern. Rabbit. Rabbit. Grass. Deer. Puddle. Birch. Ants. Nettles._ They settled on _Deer_ and went to follow that particular trail. He felt padding beneath her soles, allowing for an almost soundless pace across the forest floor. Years of practice had her paws neatly avoiding any sticks or pebbles that were in their path and her body gliding alongside bushes, never moving so much as a leaf.

As _Deer_ grew stronger and the other smells weakened, changed or faded and were replaced with new ones, he became aware of the rest of her body. He felt the source of the heat burning in her chest, and when he asked her she said **_"Fire-inside"_**. He felt strong muscles working as they chased the scent her nose was following. He felt that she was in control, and though she allowed him to experience everything she did, he was, in the end, the passenger. He felt a strange kind of energy flowing through her body, and when he asked about that, she said **_"Magic"_**.

But throughout the whole experience, he felt the way back to his own body as well, like a sort of tunnel or backdoor at the edge of his consciousness. He felt safe, knowing he could return anytime he wanted, and because of that safety, he pushed his limits just a bit too far. He tried to see inside her mind.

Immediately, she turned on him, and suddenly her body felt hostile, and before he well and truly realized it she had surrounded him, pushing him closer and closer against his backdoor. She felt like a suffocating black mass, and in the fraction of a second before he turned and fled back into his own body, he realized just how immensely powerful she was, and it terrified him.

* * *

 **Side Note**

 **Though it's on my bucketlist, I don't actually play the piano, so I apologize for any incorrectness.**


	21. Twenty

**Author's Note  
**

 **Silversun XD: Would it be very stupid to ask what the difference is? As far as I could see on the internet, there are two major types: standing/upright and grand. I was more or less aiming for grand. Glad you like the puzzle (and that you haven't solved it yet ;)).**

 **Next chapter will contain an important conversation...**

* * *

 **20**

She hadn't thrown him off after his badly-ended excursion into her body, so he figured that maybe she wasn't actually angry but rather defensive. She hadn't let him back in though, and after experiencing the acuity of her superior senses, he felt rather deaf and blind with his own.

She stopped in the middle of the forest, startling him out of his thoughts.

 ** _"_** ** _Off,"_** she said. Then, after he slid off her back, **_"Come."_**

He followed her through the trees, trying and failing to mimic her level of stealth, but she seemed satisfied anyway because she didn't remark. He was so focused on keeping quiet that he almost stepped on her tail when she stopped, one forepaw suspended in the air, nose focused on something he couldn't see.

He carefully made his way up until he was next to her head, and then he finally realized what her stance reminded him of. It was similar to some dogs he knew, that were called "pointers" and were bred not to attack the game but to point to it so the hunter could take the shot. He followed her gaze and noticed a herd of deer, standing amongst the trees. He counted one young buck and three does, one of them with a calf.

Silently, he pulled an arrow from the quiver on his back, staring at the deer, and began to pull back the string.

 ** _"_** ** _Which one?"_** she asked him soundlessly.

 _"_ _Doe,"_ he said, referring to one of the calf-less does. She nodded, pulling her legs into a low crouch while never taking her eyes off the herd. She'd probably run after the doe if he didn't manage to bring it down immediately. He huffed quietly. The doe was standing perfectly, left flank turned towards him, and a single arrow to the chest behind her left foreleg would kill her before she hit the ground. He'd show her.

He pulled the arrow back, aimed, and released. The moment the arrow left the string, he knew it was a perfect shot, and he watched with immense satisfaction as it zoomed at the herd and buried itself behind the doe's left foreleg.

The next moment though, that satisfaction was replaced with shock, because at exactly the same time his arrow found its mark, his hunting partner sprang into motion and covered the distance between them and their prey with a speed that easily outmatched any horse he'd ever seen. What was more, she didn't make for the doe he'd hit.

Once close enough, she launched herself onto the back of the buck and, avoiding the antlers trying to poke her eyes out, closed her jaws around its neck. The buck ran for a few more seconds, bleeding down his flank and neck from her teeth and claws tearing through his skin, staggered, and fell. His legs stopped flailing and his breathing slowly ceased, but she didn't let go until his eyes had gone glassy and empty.

It was an excellent kill, swift and precise. He didn't fail to appreciate the setup either, because he realized that if she had moved a fraction of a second earlier, she would have spooked the deer and he might have missed. A fraction later, and the deer might have been too quick to catch up on. Her timing had been perfect. He doubted she could keep up that astounding velocity for very long anyway.

* * *

Once she was certain the buck's fae had departed, she released him and sat back, bringing up each paw in turn to clean it. It was better to do it right after a kill than later. When blood dried up, it got itchy.

As she used her tongue to clean every claw and in between her toes, she watched Kíli pull his arrow out of his doe and clean it before sticking it back into the quiver.

"Nice job," he said as he came over. Her eyes flashed golden in appreciation. Paws cleaned, she looked down at the buck at her feet. She didn't collect trophies, but she knew Dwarves did, because some of them had shown her teeth and claws from animals they'd killed. Even though Kíli hadn't actually brought down the buck, she was impressed with his marksmanship. She grabbed one of the antlers near the base with her teeth, then yanked and tore until it finally came off and dropped it at Kíli's feet.

He blinked in confusion, then seemed to understand and picked it up. "Thanks," he said, turning it in his hands, "but…it's not very practical while traveling." She hummed approvingly. "Thanks for the help though. Maybe, after we reclaim Erebor, we could go again?" She wagged her tail twice, thumping on the forest floor.

* * *

She decided to fly rather than carry the dead animals back to Rivendell. When Kíli asked why, she said "Remember what I said about waving it in their faces? They don't mind me hunting, but strolling through Rivendell with two dead deer might be pushing our luck a little far."

So she pushed the buck on his back and grabbed each of his legs with a paw of her own. Leaving Kíli to guard the doe, she hoisted herself and the buck into the air. Thankfully, she thought as she flapped her wings to stay airborne, Rivendell was not far away. Flying with a large animal like this was exhausting.

Her mind started to wander. Kíli had been heavier than she'd expected based on his height, but not uncomfortably so. As long as he didn't stray into places he wasn't supposed to go, she wouldn't mind a next time. She'd liked having a hunting partner again. It reminded her of– _No_.

She shook her head and flapped on. When she reached the Dwarves, she unceremoniously dumped the deer next to Bombur, causing him to jump and fall over. She rolled her eyes and turned to fly back to Kíli.

After retrieving the doe and then Kíli in a similar fashion (except that she only grabbed his arms and not his legs), she quickly scavenged a meal out of the heap of vegetables Bombur was cooking with. Then she tore off on of the buck's muscular legs, ignoring Bombur's glaring, and stripped it until there was nothing but bare bone left, at which point she abandoned it in a bit of a rush to save Bofur's teeth by explaining that only the _inside_ of a pistachio nut was edible and you had to get it _out_ of the hard shell before eating it. She left them to amuse themselves by trying to crack open the almost-closed ones and spent the rest of the evening fishing out the tasty marrow from inside the bone and watching the Dwarves one by one leave for bed or nod off where they sat.

* * *

The next morning, the Dwarves awoke to a rather unusual sight, that is, more unusual than they'd gotten used to.

She was lying in a tree, on her back against the trunk, tail waving gently, nothing unusual there. What was unusual was the open book, propped up on her belly. She was reading it with a concentrated expression on her face, and the contrast between the civilized book and her wild looks was so great they couldn't help but blink and stare at her for several seconds or more.

She was aware of it, of course, but chose to ignore them in favour of reading the book. It was about sea mammals and it always amused her to see whether the writings of Elves agreed with her own observations. If she found something she didn't feel was right, she'd tell Elrond. He would always look at her with a quizzical expression on his face and say he would pass it on to the author.

The Company left her in peace until after breakfast, and then she found herself being approached by what might just be the most timid members in the whole group.

After a lot of shuffling and whispering, Bilbo was the one to ask her.

"Could you, erm– T-that is if it's not too much trouble, could you maybe take us to the, um, library?" the Hobbit asked shyly with a vague gesturing to himself and Ori, who was nodding fervently in the background. She stretched, rolled off the branch, put the book on her back between her wings so it wouldn't slide off and set off towards the library.

* * *

She had been spending time with every member of the Company at one time or another, especially Fíli and Kíli, whom she was developing a careful friendship with, but her interactions with Ori had primarily consisted of her whistling down some bird or other for him to draw and she was curious about him.

Bilbo, on the other hand, she had barely spoken to on the whole trip. Not that she wasn't curious about him too, but Thorin plainly didn't like him very much and he was the alpha. It would not be wise to let him see her getting too close to the Hobbit, so she mostly just ignored him, keeping her distance. Which wasn't that hard, honestly, considering there were thirteen others for her to talk to if she wanted a chat.

But now it was only the three of them, so she slowly dropped the carefully maintained distance between her and Bilbo. She trusted Gandalf, but she had been wondering what in the world could possibly have compelled the Wizard to enlist him as a member of the Company. The incident with the trolls had given her part of an answer, and it had piqued her curiosity. Clearly, the Hobbit was more than he seemed.

He didn't look like it right now though, walking next to her with Ori in awkward silence. To break the ice, she nudged his shoulder with her nose and asked: "Why the library?"

(Talking through her mind, as she was getting used to doing with Fíli and Kíli, would probably freak him out.)

"Just, er, curiosity," the Hobbit stammered, apparently terrified she'd said something to him. 'I've, um, heard tales of the great knowledge to be found in Elvish books."

She turned her eyes a dark green. "You do know most books are written in Sindarin, don't you?"

Now he finally looked at her, apparently shocked out of his shyness. "Really?!"

She rolled her eyes at him, letting them turn golden mixed with purple. "No, not really. I was kidding."

Ori chuckled, then said: "You can read Elvish though, can you?"

She turned her head at him, eyes pale blue. "What makes you say that?"

He pointed at the book on her back. "That's not Common Tongue."

 _Observant_. She smiled at him, then turned back to Bilbo. "Seriously though, most of the books are written in the Common Tongue so you should be fine."

They talked more freely after that. She learned that Ori's brothers fought constantly, except when something or someone was threatening their younger brother. Then they formed a united front to protect him, Ori said with an exasperated smile. Privately, she thought it was nice when someone looked out for you, but she didn't voice that thought out loud, afraid of any questions it might lead to.

From Bilbo she learned that it had been a very good idea not to show herself back in Hobbiton. If she'd been seen, there wouldn't just have been a fuss, he assured her, there would have been a 'full-scale panic'. Apparently Hobbits were petrified of things they didn't know and that might threaten their comfortable and ordered lives. It made her wonder even more why Gandalf had chosen a Hobbit as the fifteenth member, but she decided not to ask Bilbo. It might insult him.

She jumped onto a high ledge in front of them, then paused. When she'd been with Fíli and Kíli, she'd just taken her normal route, since Elvish paths meandered a bit too much for her taste, and they hadn't shown any problems with clambering after her. Ori and especially Bilbo didn't seem as athletically able, so she faced the slight dilemma of either taking her shortcut or leading them on an easier accessible, but far longer route. After a moment of thought, she lowered her tail down the ledge, then waited for either of them to get the idea.

Ori was first, as she expected he would. He hesitantly put his hand around her tail, just above the round knob on the end, and quickly added his other when she began slowly pulling him up and off the ground. She raised him to her level, then carefully placed his dangling feet on the ground next to her.

Bilbo followed suit, and she was surprised to feel the strength with which his hands tightened around her tail. She pulled him up faster than Ori, trusting him to know the drill after witnessing it the first time.

The large, airy building that was the library stood in front of them, and after she pushed the door open she smiled silently at the reverent expressions with which they regarded the endless rows of tall, dusty bookcases.

* * *

It turned into a rather pleasant afternoon. Ori settled down with a book on tropical birds, Bilbo submerged himself in a thick work about Elvish culture (about the only book he could find on that subject written in the Common Tongue) and she read on about whales, seals and dolphins, occasionally smiling sadly at the author's failure to comprehend the complex social nature of the animals they wrote about.

She spent the evening with Bombur, who, finally in possession of adequate supplies, was quickly starting to turn every meal into a feast. He told her all about herbs, spices and other additions that "made good food even better".

She recognized every herb he showed her, though she didn't know all the names, but she wasn't as familiar with spices, so she sniffed everything he held in front of her and committed name, scent and taste to memory.

Unfortunately, the pepper he showed her went up her nose and made her sneeze. A metre-long jet of flame burst from her nostrils, torching several herbs before she put it out with a flick of her tail. Upon seeing the expression on Bombur's face, she thought it prudent to leave his presence immediately and go find replacements for the herbs she'd accidently roasted.

When she brought a pile of weeds back later that evening, it apparently still wasn't enough to get her out of being whacked on the head with a wooden ladle. Which, she thought indignantly as she rubbed the sore spot on top of her head, was quite unfair, because he was the one who'd waved the pepper at her in the first place.


	22. Twenty-one

**Author's Note  
**

 **Difficult chapter to write, but I'm pretty happy with the way it turned out.**

* * *

 **21**

 _He hears a roar and he knows he's coming, he's coming again and he can't do a thing about it. He looks out over Dale and sees his shadow on the ground, a dark mass gliding towards them, leaving death and destruction in its wake. He turns around and screams into the Mountain: "DRAGON!" even as he knows there's nothing they can do._

 _They're powerless against him, but they're Dwarves and this is their home and so they charge at the beast when he crashes through the front gate, ruin and smoke at his tail. They scream their war-cries in the useless hope that it will frighten the beast away._

 _Smaug pays them no heed, their sharpest swords and spears mere tickles against his impenetrable scales. He only narrowly avoids being stepped on, but he sees his comrades, his friends, his_ brothers _not being so fortunate, sees them getting crushed by the Dragon like the ants they are to him._

 _He runs against the stream of people trying to get out, to get as far away from the monster as possible, with only one thought on his mind: his grandfather, the King. He has to save the King._

 _He passes his little sister, crying and frightened, and sends her outside, to lead their people to safety. He looks for Frerin, but his younger brother is nowhere to be seen and the sickening feeling in his stomach doubles._

 _He knows, instinctively, what the Dragon is going for. The treasure. The great hoard of gold and silver and gems that lies amassed deep inside the Mountain. He knows, because of the gold-sickness consuming him, that the King will be there too._

 _So he runs, even as his feet are burning and his lungs are screaming with every smoky breath he takes. And he prays to all the Valar:_ Get me there in time, _please_ get me there in time…

 _He's too late. When he rounds the last corner, his heart plummets into his feet at the sight of his brother and a handful of loyal warriors, making their last stand in front of the gate leading to the treasury. The Dragon stands between him and them, his chest lighting up red as he prepares to breathe fire._

 _He cries out, causing Frerin to look at him. His little brother smiles at him, sad and knowing and brave, and they look into each other's eyes as the Dragon opens his maw and lets out an inferno that consumes the little insects that are in his way._

 _The_ scream _Frerin makes as he's burning alive tears through his heart and_ startled him awake. In all the years since the Fall of Erebor, he had never managed to forget his brother's scream, carrying it with him everywhere he went, reminding him of the promises he made to avenge him.

He groaned, realizing his face is covered in sweat. At least he didn't cry out loud this time. He shuddered at the sound of Frerin's scream ringing through his mind again, feeling an overwhelming, scorching hatred for the Dragon that had robbed him of his home, friends and family.

He got up and went over to one of the sprinkling fountains. He splashed cold water onto his face, cleaning off the sweat and finally waking him up properly. The Company was still fast asleep, as was the rest of Rivendell. The only sounds to be heard were the fountain trickling gently and the distant sound of the river below. And the birds. It was as if every bird in the vicinity had gathered here for their morning concert. Now that he'd noticed it, it was impossible to ignore the whistles, chirps and trills coming from all around him.

He rounded a corner and stopped dead in his tracks. He really should be used to this by now, he thought. Yet she still regularly managed to surprise him.

She was sitting in the middle of a square lined with trees. Those trees were packed with birds of all shapes and sizes, and they seemed to be producing the songs filling the air. On second glance, however, if not half then at least a third of the sounds were produced by the four-legged creature sitting amongst them.

Looking at her, he was startled to realize how little he actually knew about her. Thanks to Ursel, he was getting to know some parts of her personality pretty well, but large portions of her remained uncharted. He had learned by now, along with the rest of the Company, that she did not take kindly to people asking about her past, and she didn't disclose much by herself.

Although he would never admit it, it had probably been a good idea from Gandalf to have her keep some things a secret from him for a while. If she'd introduced herself to him as she was, he probably _would_ have sent her away based on his past experiences with dragons. But he knew, despite her huge wings and fiery breath, that she wasn't a dragon.

But if not a dragon, then what? As he looked at her now, so out of sorts and yet seeming to belong, he couldn't help but wonder. What kind of creature was she? Where had she come from? How come no one had ever seen or heard about her kind before? Why was she so sensitive about her past? Why had she decided to come with them?

So many unanswered questions. She was a mystery, and the only thing he was certain of, was that she wasn't evil. Which at least settled his doubts, for the time being.

He must have made some noise, because she turned one long tapering ear towards him, followed by the rest of her head, the birdsong all but ceasing. Upon seeing him, her eyes turned from purple to light brown and she rumbled a friendly **_"Good morning"_** at him. He sent her a quick flash of friendly thought in return.

He wondered vaguely if she knew what he had been thinking about, but dismissed the thought. She would have reacted differently if she had, and besides, once he had figured out how the link connecting them through the red stone in his pocket worked, the first thing he did was block her from seeing his mind, something he had gotten so used to over the past few weeks that he was doing it constantly and unconsciously by now. He didn't think she minded. She did it too. The only thing that siphoned through sometimes was a particularly strong feeling or emotion.

He wondered if she'd felt his nightmare. Probably not, judging from the way she went back to whistling to the birds.

It wasn't as if either of them had wanted the link to happen, but here it was and neither of them knew how to resolve it, so they just made the best of it.

In moments of complete honesty, he admitted to himself that it was quite useful sometimes, especially since she usually ranged far ahead or behind the Company.

Suddenly, the bird sounds stopped and the birds departed in a single flock from the trees. She spread her wings and followed them into the air. Mahal only knew where she was off to.

He watched her go until she banked left and disappeared from view. Then he turned around, all thoughts of seeing if the Company had woken up yet and maybe getting something to eat vanishing from his mind as he saw Elrond standing under a graceful archway behind him, wearing an elegant robe embroidered with gold, his eyes trained on where Skyfire had gone.

After a moment, the Elf (or Half-Elf, he recalled) lowered his eyes and looked at Thorin.

"I would like a word," he said gravely.

Warily, the Dwarf nodded, and Elrond turned around and walked away, leading him along. They walked for a good ten minutes, and the Elf never so much as glanced at him. Just when he was about to decide he was done here and started wondering what Bombur might whip up for breakfast, he found himself on a large balcony overlooking the valley, and Elrond finally stopped and turned around.

"You need to know what you are dealing with," he stated simply.

"What are you talking about?" Thorin asked, although they both knew the answer.

"Her."

"What about her?" _Maybe I'm finally getting some answers…_

"She likes you."

Thorin almost snorted. Instead, he raised an eyebrow. He had not gotten the impression that she liked him so much. Other members of the Company, yes. His sister-sons? Definitely. But him?

Elrond saw the unasked question in his eyes. He put his hands on the balustrade and sighed, looking off into the distance. "She has many names. She is Dreamcatcher, Deathseer, Tonguespeaker. But we also call her Mirror, for she will reflect back what she is given. As such, her feelings cannot be deduced by interaction alone. The fact that she has accompanied you this far tells me she has taken a liking to you, no matter how she might act towards you or anyone else in your Company."

"She has signed a contract," Thorin countered. "She is obligated to come with us."

"If she had wanted to leave, a piece of paper with her name on it would not have stopped her. Contracts do not bind her, nor do promises or oaths. She is with you because you have, for the time being, gained her loyalty. Be grateful, for there is great power and wisdom within her. Should she ever come to you with black eyes and say something that is not a jest, you would do well to remember it."

Silence fell for a moment, and then Elrond answered the question that had been hanging above their conversation ever since it began. "We found her, many years ago. She had been injured somehow, and we took her in to nurse her back to health and to learn more about her, for she was unlike anything any of us had ever seen. At first, we had to earn her trust as we would a wild animal, for she would not allow us close to her. Later, when she grew more comfortable around us, and began exhibiting signs of intelligence, we named her and taught her our language and others after that, for she showed a great talent in learning them.

"Despite this, she has never told us where she came from. We suspect, however, that she has spent at least part of her life among wolves, for she behaved a lot like one, especially in the beginning. Even now, some of her social behaviour very much resembles that of a wolf. Since I presume she will accompany you further, I will lend you one of our books on the subject, so that you can begin to understand certain aspects that you may find…puzzling."

Thorin took a moment to let the information sink in. Then he asked: "Where did you find her?"

For a moment, Elrond's face turned blank and his eyes grew absent and misty, as if he no longer registered his surroundings. Before Thorin could say anything though, the Elf brought his hand to his forehead. "You must excuse me, I am afraid I cannot remember. My memory is no longer what it once was."

Thorin paused. He had never heard of an Elf experiencing memory loss, but then again how much did he really know about them? They lived immortally long lives, so surely they did not remember everything… Or maybe it was his Human half, weakening his mind?

Yet he couldn't help but feel a slight tingling in his stomach, a gut feeling that this might not be a natural occurrence. He managed to put it away for the moment in favour of focusing on his conversation partner who, after all, seemed fine now.

"Any other advice on how to…deal with her?" he asked, not quite managing to not make it sound like dealing with a nuisance. She intrigued him…but she was also a lot of work.

If the Elf picked it up, he didn't comment. "She likes games. Puzzles, riddles especially, things she has to use her brain for."

Hm. Personally, Thorin was not overly fond of riddles, lacking the alternative thinking required to solve them, but there were several toymakers in his Company and he knew for a fact that Bifur had brought some puzzles with him to kill the time. Maybe he could persuade him to share.

He realized the Elf was watching him intently, and he had half a thought to ask him about Skyfire's telepathic abilities, but decided not to. It might lead to unwanted questions and he didn't want to tell anyone about Ursel, mostly because he didn't know how he felt about that himself yet.

Instead, he said, "Thank you. Please excuse me," and Elrond nodded without a word. He turned around and walked back to the Company, lost in thought. The conversation had left him with a lot to think about.

* * *

Of course she had felt his nightmare. Not so much the images themselves, but she had sensed feelings of fear, desperation, anger, and a cold hatred so strong it wasn't hard to imagine what the nightmare had been about. She could have asked him about it, but in the end, it wasn't her business, she thought as she tried to manoeuvre her long tongue into a prickly bush the birds had shown her to reach the sweet berries deep inside while avoiding the sharp thorns.

She had demons of her own to wrestle with, as did he. And as long as everybody stuck to their own demons and did not get involved with anybody else's, everything worked out just fine.


	23. Twenty-two

**Author's Note**

 **Sorry it took this long. I had planned to upload on Monday, but well, I don't know if you've seen the news, but there's been a shooting incident in Utrecht, the city where I go to university. I happened not to go that day, so I spent the day at home watching the news and being very, very glad I'd stayed at home. Everyone I know is fine, but thanks to the threat-level being pumped up to its highest, the university went on lockdown and people were stuck inside the building until five in the afternoon. So yeah. All very distracting.**

 **Anyway, life goes on and so does the story. Next chapter will be the last chapter in Rivendell, Elrond will read the map and we'll finally get on the road again.**

 **There are a few riddles featured later in this chapter. Because I personally like to try solving them myself without being given the answer straight away, I changed the anwers to numbers in the story. You can find the answers corresponding to the numbers at the bottom.**

 **That's pretty much it. Enjoy and let me know what you think!**

* * *

 **22**

When she returned later that evening, she found the Dwarves engaged in an unfamiliar activity. They appeared to be tying knots into each other's hair.

 _Oh, wait._ The word was 'braiding', she recalled, and the knots were called 'braids'. She'd observed the Elves doing it too, but nothing quite like this. The Company looked more like a group of monkeys grooming each other than anything else. She saw Nori braiding Dori's hair while Dori did Ori's. She saw both Bofur and Bombur working away at Bifur's wild salt-and-pepper mane as the Dwarf himself fiddled with something in his hands.

She didn't understand why they put so much work and time into their hairstyles. After all, Elves busied themselves with little else than art and knowledge, both activities perfectly pursuable with long hair. They only put little braids in their hair to keep it out of their eyes or because they liked it.

But the Dwarves…

She didn't know what lives they usually led, but while traveling under all kinds of weather and fighting off Orcs and wargs she didn't see how long hair was anything but a hindrance. And wouldn't simply cutting it off be a much easier solution than all this intricate plucking and twisting?

The only ones not engaged in any hair-related activity were Bilbo and Gandalf. The Hobbit was sitting in a comfy chair, immersed in a book, and the Wizard was leaned back on a couch with his eyes closed. She knew from experience that he probably wasn't sleeping though.

Then her eyes found Thorin, who was braiding Fíli's hair and talking to Kíli while wearing what was both easily the tenderest and least brooding expression she had ever seen on his face. She had been planning to ask either of the young Dwarves what all the braiding was about, but the peaceful scene in front of her caused a lump to appear in her throat and she couldn't find it in her to disturb the moment.

She looked for another Dwarf that might be willing to answer her question and her gaze fell on Bofur. She'd talked to him before about all sorts of things, but then he had always had a pipe in his mouth. Hoping he'd be as relaxed and agreeable without it, she carefully made her way over to him and gently nudged his arm with her nose to get his attention.

"Hey there," he said, nimble fingers halting for a moment as he smiled at her and then resuming their work.

Her ears perked up and she made a questioning sound, a sort of ascending rumble that was her equivalent of "Can I ask a question?"

It wasn't the first time he heard it and he recognized it immediately. "Go ahead."

She sniffed at the rough strands of hair in his hands. It tickled, so she pulled back quickly. "What's with the braiding?" she asked.

Immediately, Bofur launched into an explanation of the various braids and their meanings in equally various situations. Most of this monologue was lost on her, mainly because she didn't know the different kinds of braids and as such had no idea what a 'fishtail' braid or a 'waterfall' braid was and what the differences between the two entailed. She did gather that braids were of more significance than she had previously thought. Apparently, braiding _was_ a social activity, but it was done by either a family member or a close friend, and the complexity of the braids symbolized the closeness of the social relation that had put it there.

She thought about that for a moment, looking at the hairstyles around her. Dori, Nori and Ori were brothers, so it made sense for their braids to be more complex than Bifur's, because Bofur and Bombur were his cousins. Same went for Óin and Glóin. So far, so good.

Her gaze wandered to Balin and Dwalin, who were each combing their own hair and leaving each other's completely alone. It would seem there were exceptions.

"Some place more importance on it than others," Bofur said, following her eyes and answering her unspoken question.

She looked at Thorin, Fíli and Kíli. Bofur looked too and his smile faded a little. He bent towards her and she turned an ear towards him to allow him to whisper something without the others hearing.

"Thorin considers it a bit of a waste of time for someone to braid his hair. And he's not really close with people…except maybe his sister. She understands him better than anyone," the Dwarf whispered. Then his voice dropped to a faint breathing, and she had to strain her ear to catch the last bits. "He does use the opportunity to get some family time with Fíli and Kíli though."

Her eyes turned a light blue as she thought about that. Thorin was a very closed person, not allowing anyone near him – _just like you,_ a little voice inside her said, but she quickly pushed it away – but he clearly did love his nephews. Maybe it was easier to use a little detour to show someone you loved them than to flat-out tell them.

She'd never seen Kíli with any elaborate braidings in his hair though, and when she pointed this out to Bofur the Dwarf chuckled and said: "He can't sit still long enough, doesn't have the patience for it. Which is odd, considering how good a hunter he is."

She hummed thoughtfully. She didn't find it odd, actually, she recognized it. When hunting, one was focused on something, be it tracking or observing or tensing before a kill. She herself could sit motionless for hours watching a flower open, enjoying the way the petals unfurled as they took in the sunlight.

But actual boring waiting, without anything to occupy her time? Unbearable. She could see why active, enthusiastic Kíli couldn't sit through an hour of picking at his hair. She wouldn't either.

As that thought entered her mind, she noticed that Bifur did not seem bored at all. She had noticed before he was turning something in his hands, and now she lowered her head to take a closer look. She saw a gleam of metal and went to sniff at it.

Before she knew it, Bifur had realized what she was doing and held out a hand to show her the mysterious object resting on his palm.

She looked at it, sniffed, tilted her head to the side in confusion, and sniffed again, not sure what to make of it. It appeared to be two long, thin metal cylinders, that is, she saw four endings, twisting and turning into each other so that they formed one intertwining piece of metal. She could barely see where one cylinder ended and the other began, let alone discern the purpose of the contraption.

Bifur grunted something in Dwarvish and she looked up at him, completely lost. More than ever, she hated not being able to understand him. She briefly considered looking into his mind, her curiosity outweighing her respect for privacy, when Bofur fortunately jumped in.

"It's a puzzle," he said. She turned her head to look at him. "You see, you have to try to separate the two pieces."

Bifur nodded, demonstrating by doing something incomprehensible to the clump of metal and then showing her two identical pieces of metal, one on each palm. Her eyes widened comically and he chuckled, before chucking the two pieces into a bag standing next to him and fishing out two more puzzles. He held one out to her.

She sat down on her haunches, splaying her tail out behind her to keep her balance and using her front paws to take the puzzle from him. She fiddled with it for a moment, but soon found her paws, despite retracting her nails, lacking the fine motor control necessary to fix the puzzle. After nearly dropping it, she put it down, sighing in defeat. _Damn it. I need fingers._

* * *

What happened next had Bifur dropping his puzzle, Bofur the half-finished braid, and all Dwarves in the vicinity their jaws. They had been travelling with Skyfire for the past few weeks, and grown used to her doing things they had previously thought beyond the realm of possibility. But now, before their very eyes, she revealed an entirely new dimension of impossibleness.

Her snout disappeared and her face flattened. Her body shrunk while her hind legs lengthened, and her fur retreated into her skin, except on her head, where it grew explosively and the long tresses covered almost her entire upper body. Her paws reshaped until they resembled hands and feet. Her wings changed too, reforming and turning transparent.

The entire metamorphosis had taken up less than a minute. Where, until very recently, had been a wolf-like creature the size of a pony with wings like a dragon, now crouched a female human-like figure whose age was anyone's guess.

No one could mistake her for being human, though. She still had her tail, though it was slightly shorter and the knob on the end was smaller, more like a tuft. Two pair of large transparent dragonfly-like wings sat on her back, starting between her shoulder blades and stretching out about a metre each. She had smooth, pale skin and a matted mass of hair the same colour her fur had been, falling down her back, around her shoulders and into her face. Which had changed too, but not nearly as much as the rest of her body. She'd kept her long, pointed ears, though they were set slightly lower on her head so they stuck out more sideways instead of straight up. And when she reached up to push some hair behind her ears with hands equipped with nails that weren't claws but not entirely normal nails either, she revealed a human mouth, a small nose and large purple eyes.

Those were different. They had gotten used to her eyes continuously changing colour, depending on how she was feeling, and had even begun matching certain colours to different emotions. But now, despite the fact that she was clearly nervous from the way her shoulders hunched and her ears turned back, her eyes stayed the same, a fierce purple no human eye had ever achieved.

Not for the first time, nor would it be the last, they wondered what in the world she was.

No one said anything, dazed, as she continued fiddling with the metal puzzle as if shapeshifting was a perfectly ordinary thing to do, occasionally pausing to swipe some hair away from her eyes so she could see what she was doing. Unfortunately, the blonde waterfall was so tangled it wouldn't stay put, and with a huff, she rose to her feet.

She stumbled backwards immediately, flailing her arms to keep from toppling over while her wings started buzzing to push her back onto her feet. Eventually, she managed a stable, if slightly wobbly, stance.

Her action broke the spell of silence that had been over the Company for the past few minutes, for standing up revealed some more feminine attributes of her new body. They hastily averted their eyes while Bofur went rummaging in his pack, finding a spare blanket that he waved in her direction, looking anywhere but at her.

She looked slightly bemused but accepted the blanket, wrapping it around her under her armpits and pressing her upper arms against her body to keep it in place. Once everything was properly covered, she dryly stated, "You can look."

One by one, they turned to gape at her. She simply crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at them.

Now, they weren't entirely inexperienced anymore, having been surprised very often these past few weeks, so the first question asked (by Bofur) was no longer "How?" but instead "Why?"

 _At least that's an intelligent question._ "I needed fingers," she simply said, as if that was sufficient explanation. For her, it was. She also knew that there were other shapeshifters in the world besides her (although the specifics differed slightly), so she considered this less unusual than certain other things she did.

She blew some hair out of her face, but a slight breeze pushed it right back. She groaned, annoyance sparking up again. "Does anyone have a pair of scissors?"

In the blink of an eye, the expression on every Dwarven face changed from astounded to horrified. She even heard some gasps and a "Mahal!"

 _Now what!?_ "A knife would work too?" she tried weakly. She'd recalled, as Bofur offered her a blanket, that nudity was considered inappropriate in public among virtually all humans (not that she minded, but they were clearly uncomfortable), but she was racking her brain to figure out what she'd done this time. The Dwarves often confused her as much as she puzzled them, but she couldn't think of anything that explained why they were looking at her as if she'd just asked for one of their ears.

At last, it was Fíli who overcame his horror and explained to her in a very clipped voice that, among Dwarves, cutting off one's hair was apparently **not done** , with a whole list of social complexities tacked onto it. She had half a mind to remind him that she wasn't a Dwarf and as such didn't adhere to any of their customs, hair-related or otherwise, but then she remembered she was trying to fit in and decided on a prickly "What do you suggest I do to keep it out of my way, then?"

A short pause fell, broken by Kíli clearing the ground in front of him, gesturing to it and offering "I could put a braid in it, if you want?"

She hesitated for a split second, but it wasn't as if she had much of an alternative and she _really_ wanted to finish the puzzle, so she flapped her way over to him, not entirely trusting her halved amount of legs, and crossed them in the air before descending in front of Kíli so she didn't have to go through the trouble of trying to fold them onto the ground without falling.

As she tried to untangle the puzzle, he tried to untangle her hair, though, he thought, 'tame' might be a better word for it. Matted and twisted as it was, it reached down to her waist, and it was impossible to say how long it would be once properly smoothed out. He soon found the task too big for him alone and enlisted his brother's and Dori's help. All three set to work, armed with wooden combs, while she tried her hand at the puzzle, occasionally growling or yelping and turning her ears back every time they accidentally pulled too hard.

Unfortunately, she turned out to be rather good at the metal puzzles. Once she solved the first one with a little help from Bofur ("If you have to use force, you're not doing it right.") she sifted through the little bag quite quickly and although she amused herself for a while after that by watching the metal pieces slide in and out of each other, there were still quite a few impressive-looking tangles to work at by the time she got bored.

She started fidgeting. Which wasn't helpful when the task at hand already required a lot of focus and care. Also her wings, which had been drooping down onto the ground and which the Dwarves had been very careful not to step on, started twitching into their faces while her tail swished along the ground.

The Company began hastily searching for ways to keep her busy, for they all had great respect for hair in general and to watch such a long and tangled mess being combed out into a smooth waterfall was nothing short of eye candy. To everyone's surprise, it was Thorin who came with the solution.

"How about a game of riddles?" he suggested grumpily from his place by the fire.

If she'd been in her animal form, her eyes would have most certainly turned a light blue in surprise. Even now that they stayed purple, surprise was clearly written across her features, as was the case with most other Company members. He was keeping his mind firmly closed from her when she asked (her ears really had stayed the same) because, given how secretive she was about her past, he didn't think she would appreciate his talk with Elrond.

He was spared further, more insisting inquiry by Bofur calling out the first riddle.

 _"_ _Young I am tall, old I am short  
When I take a breath, it becomes my death  
What am I?"_

Though she had never heard it before, that clearly didn't go for everyone. Bofur had barely finished speaking before Nori called out the answer, to general cheers: "1!"

Balin was next. She leaned a bit forward to listen.

 _"_ _What is not, has never been, but will always come?"_

That one took a little longer. There was silence for a few seconds, until Glóin said: "2?"

Balin smiled and nodded.

Before anyone else could speak up, she said:

 _"_ _What swims in the ocean, but does not get wet  
Can take any form, yet not be met  
What follows a bird, but cannot fly  
And disappears under the midnight sky?"_

"This all pertains to one thing, right?" Ori asked.

"Right."

There was some muttering as the Dwarves repeated the riddle for themselves. She grinned expectantly. Then the Hobbit, who was sitting a little on the outskirts of the group, spoke up and said in a matter-of-fact sort of tone: "3."

"Mm-hm," she nodded at him. She yelped as Fíli pulled on a particularly resisting knot. "Sorry," he muttered.

Bilbo, having guessed the right answer, became a little more invested in the game.

 _"_ _The poor have it, the rich lack it  
When you eat it, it kills you  
What is it?"_

She tilted her head to the side in thought. To her left, Óin muttered "Poison…?"

She threw him a scathing look. "Do the poor have poison? The poor don't have any…" she trailed off, thinking. "4?"

Bilbo nodded fervently. She smirked.

 _"_ _A white box lacking key or lid  
With golden treasure inside it hid."_

"5," grunted Dwalin after a short pause. She nodded, a little surprised.

They kept exchanging riddles until, after at least half an hour, Kíli leaned back with a sigh and proclaimed: "Phew…done!"

She looked down over her shoulder and smiled at the golden waterfall falling down her back and even piling a little on the ground. It hadn't been this tangle-free in a very long time.

Kíli took a moment to regain his breath and stretch his fingers, then asked his brother for a hair bead and began braiding. She purred as she felt his fingers move across her scalp as he separated it into three strands and began braiding a single braid down her back. It was so long that by the time he was halfway, she turned around to see how a braid worked. It didn't seem too complicated, if she was being honest.

When he at last finished by putting the hair bead and she stood up, the very end of the braid trailed down to her thighs. She twirled a few times, appreciating the way it stayed out of her way, before letting the blanket fall to the ground and changing back. Once she was properly standing on four paws again, she handed the bead back with a well-meant "Thanks."

* * *

 **Here are the answers to the riddles:**

 **1\. A candle**

 **2\. Tomorrow/the future**

 **3\. A shadow**

 **4\. Nothing**

 **5\. An egg (duh!)**

 **Kíli's hard work wasn't all for nothing, by the way. Her hair grows even when she's not human, but it also pretty much stays in the same form. So next time she turns, she'll have an unfinished braid instead of a mess. Makes no sense at all, I know, but then neither does she ;)**


	24. Twenty-three

**23**

As the days passed, she found herself getting restless, wondering when they would leave again. The Dwarves didn't seem to be in any hurry, quite happily parasiting off the Elves' hospitality and patience. Both of which were stretching thin, she had learned from eavesdropping on a conversation between Lindir and Elrond while silently observing the Dwarves skinny-dipping in one of Rivendell's prized fountains (she had promptly decided to only take drinks from upriver from now on). Elrond had been very civil in explaining to a concerned Lindir that while he acknowledged the severe drain the Dwarves represented on Rivendell's resources, it was not yet decided when they would depart. But she knew the Half-Elf's expressions well enough to know from the frown appearing between his eyes as he noticed the abuse of his fountain that he would like the Dwarves to leave sooner rather than later.

She broached the subject that same afternoon to Thorin, after luring him away from their rooms to show him Rivendell's hidden wonders. He had been the only one who had managed to supress his curiosity about the settlement, though she knew it had more to do with stubbornness than lack of interest. The others gave in one by one and asked her to show them around. She was very deliberate in taking them along, showing everyone another part of the valley. She led Ori, Bilbo and Balin to the library, Dwalin and Glóin to the armoury, Oín to the healers and Fíli and Kíli to the stables, where they borrowed two ponies and raced her around the plains. None of the Elvish horses could keep up with her, though they could run longer.

But Thorin was the only one she took to her favourite part of Rivendell.

As everything here, it had an Elvish name, but she didn't mention it to Thorin, instead translating it directly to the Hall of Eye-blinking. Though she saw his brow furrowing, he didn't ask her why the place was called that. It became apparent the minute they stepped though the small, wooden door.

The Dwarf had assumed, from the looks of the unimpressive door in the cliffside, that she was taking him to a storage or something. Instead, they found themselves in a spacious cave, which was shrouded in darkness after she closed the door behind them, except for a single beam of sunlight coming in through a tiny crack high in the wall to their right.

As the echo of the door closing died away, she walked over to where the beam of light hit what looked like a circular plate of some sort. She flipped the plate, revealing a shining glass mirror, which caught the sunlight and reflected it further into the cave. The beam bounced off dozens of mirrors embedded in the walls, floor and ceiling, lighting up the whole cave in the process.

Thorin was unable to keep his mouth from falling open. She grinned at him. **_"Neat trick, huh?"_**

 _"_ _Astounding,"_ he said. Somehow it seemed wrong to break the utter silence hanging in the cave by speaking up.

He walked over to her to examine the mirror, the sound of his footsteps magnified by the cave's echoes. _"This will only work a few hours a day, at most."_

 ** _"_** ** _We won't be in here that long."_**

She turned away from the mirror and walked deeper into the cave. **_"The magic of the Elves has given them the ability to create things that could not have been accomplished otherwise. Things that should be impossible but aren't. Some are scattered across Rivendell, and if you pay close attention you may see them. But the very best ones are kept in here."_**

She gestured with a wing, and for the first time he noticed that it wasn't exactly empty. There were pictures hanging on the walls, and mysterious objects resting on pedestals or in alcoves cut out in the walls. He walked forward to examine the first picture. It had a little text in Elvish hanging beside it, which he couldn't read. Instead, he looked at the picture. It showed a young girl facing away.

 ** _"_** ** _There's two people in this picture,"_** she said, **_"A young girl and an old woman. Can you see them both?"_**

He frowned. _"Old woman? I see the young girl looking away, where does the old woman come–"_

His jaw dropped. He tilted his head slightly to the side, and suddenly saw an eye in the young girl's ear, and a crooked nose in the line of her cheek. Then the rest of the ugly old woman's head came into view, looking sternly at them. "Impossible…"

He could feel Skyfire's amusement at the edge of his mind. She turned away from the two women and walked to the next picture.

She led him past all the pictures hanging on the walls, and with every new one he paused and blinked as his mind tried to make sense of what he was seeing. He saw an oliphaunt with more legs on the ground than came out of his body. Black-and-white lines that appeared slanted but, when you put something straight underneath them, turned out to be straight as an arrow. Endless stairs that made his eyes hurt as he tried to follow them and, despite clear differences in height, kept coming back to the starting point. Every time they came to a new picture, he got dizzy as he tried to figure out what was so fundamentally wrong with it that it didn't fit within his realm of understanding.

Throughout these, he drew small comfort from the fact that, no matter the tricks they played on his eyes, they were just pictures. Endless stairs couldn't exist in reality, it would violate the very rules of possibility. As confusing as they were, they were fictional, and as such he could, in a way, accept them and incorporate them into his world view without changing the rules of said view.

Not so when they moved on to the objects.

It was as if the Elves had pulled impossible things from their pictures and plopped them into reality, forcing him to acknowledge their existence, no matter how warped he thought it was. He saw a large glass beetle in a tall translucent box, falling down slowly to break upon hitting the bottom of the box, glittering fragments flying in all directions. The next moment, time seemed to reverse, the pieces were coming back together and rose, and by the time they reached the top of the box, the beetle was whole again. Only to descend and start the entire cycle all over again, breaking and healing for eternity. He saw sculptures depicting creatures so strange, his companion seemed positively ordinary in comparison, and that was saying something. And many more miracles that he couldn't even begin to describe, that he could only gape at in astonishment because they were _impossible_.

 _Things that should be impossible but aren't._ Skyfire's words ghosted through his head as he stood looking at a stone that changed colour, depending on the distance from which it was viewed. With everything he saw, those words took on a new meaning, and they forced him to substantially expand his definition of what was possible.

He couldn't say how much time they had spent here, though it couldn't have been as long as he felt because Skyfire hadn't adjusted the mirror at the entrance since they arrived. Eventually, they arrived at the last item, a flower. When in the light, it was a light blue, with a yellow heart. When Skyfire held a wing over it, blocking the reflected beam of sunlight, it withered, turned black and died, only to revive once the shadow was removed and the sunlight hit it again.

He was trying it himself, holding a hand over the flower and watching the colours drain from the crumpling petals, and then watching them return as soon as he pulled his hand back, when she suddenly asked: **_"When are we leaving?"_**

He looked at her. She looked back, her eyes black. He opened his mouth and closed it again. In truth, he'd been asking himself that same question with increasing frequency over the last couple of days. He'd managed to soothe his conscience every time by telling himself that there was no hurry, that the Dragon had slept for sixty years and would sleep for a while to come, that as long as he had the key and the map no one would be able to enter the Mountain, and until they knew what to do, instead of camping at the foot of the Mountain, wasn't it better to stay here, basking in the hospitality of the Elves?

Yet he found he couldn't give her all these reasons. The cave had left him off guard, had led him to question things he had always taken for granted. The nagging doubt he had suppressed at the back of his head manifested itself tenfold, and he couldn't give her an answer.

 ** _"_** ** _Show Elrond the map,"_** she half suggested, half ordered.

"It is the legacy of my people," he defended immediately, speaking up for the first time. "It is no business of the Elves."

"It's useless," she retorted sharply. "It holds a secret; you can't find it, I can't find it, Gandalf can't find it. Elrond might."

He said nothing. She ploughed on. "The Elves are growing tired of our presence here. They will make us leave, and we'll have gotten no further in this Quest."

"They wouldn't," he growled. "They value their famed hospitality too much."

She scoffed, a sharp sound that echoed away into the cave. "Make no mistake, if they want us gone, they'll not rest until we're out. O, they won't drive us out on swordpoint, but very quietly, very subtly, they'll force us to go, you'll see."

That was…concerning. But he couldn't give in, it went against everything he believed. "The Elves will never help us, unless for their own gain. Once they discover the secret of the map, they'll keep us here and claim Erebor's riches, _our birthright_ , for themselves."

Without realizing it, he had started to speak louder, and in the silence that fell he could hear the echoes of his own words coming back at them.

She looked at him, her eyes unreadable. "Hasn't this cave shown you that what we believe to be possible and impossible doesn't necessarily have to be so?"

Suspicion grew in his stomach. "Is that why you brought me here?"

She looked away and refused to meet his eyes.

He thought about what she had said. As much as he hated to admit it, she had a point. The map was useless to him, as long as he couldn't discover the secret it held. There was a very good chance Elrond would be able to discover that secret. And it was true: what he had seen in this cave stretched beyond the limits of his wildest imaginations, beyond what he'd thought possible, and yet it was real and tangible before him. Could it be that what he had taken as truth about Elves wasn't the truth either?

 ** _"_** ** _If it helps,"_** she said softly, hesitatingly, **_"leaving Rivendell against the wishes of the Elves isn't impossible either."_**

He looked at her, doubting. _"Can you promise me, that if we wish to leave and they wish us to stay, we can get out? You will get us out?"_

She looked at him, unblinking. **_"Yes."_**

* * *

 _"_ _How did it go?"_

She didn't even ask how the Wizard knew what she and Thorin had been doing this afternoon. Somehow, he always knew everything, even though she knew he hadn't been anywhere nearby and she was fairly sure no one had seen them. **_"I think there's a chance."_**

 _"_ _Well, that's something."_

She was curled up on the branch of a tree, watching the sun set. After leaving the Hall of Eye-blinking, Thorin excused himself from both her presence and the presence of everyone else, and had wandered off by himself to think. She and the rest of the Company, although she was the only one who knew, were awaiting his decision.

She wondered what the Dwarf would decide. She did think there was a bigger chance of him accepting Elrond's help now than there had been this morning. Truthfully, if Thorin was the leader she thought he was, she was pretty sure he would look beyond his preconceptions against the Elves and be able to accept their help for the good of the Quest.

If he didn't, she had misjudged his character and he wasn't a leader she wanted to follow. For herself, she had decided that if he clung too much to the past to be able to make the right choices for the future, she would leave.

She hadn't told him this, of course.

* * *

It didn't come to that.

When Thorin returned, she could see his decision clearly in his mind. He ignored the Company's questions, marched straight to the nearest Elf and requested a meeting with Elrond. While he waited, he was joined by Gandalf, Balin and Bilbo, and when the Elf returned to tell them that Lord Elrond could receive them now and if they would follow him, please? the four of them set off together.

She didn't go with them. Her part was done, it was up to Gandalf to steer the meeting in the right direction. The four of them would surely share the important things with the rest of them, and if she still had questions she could always ask the Wizard. Instead, she stayed behind with the rest of the Company.

She considered telling them to start packing, but decided that would attract too much attention and would tip the Elves off that they were planning to make an unexpected break for it. She did keep an eye on them to make sure no one left the rooms, because she didn't want to have to track down stragglers when haste was required. She also planned out an escape route, because Thorin had not been wrong about the Elves wanting to prevent them from continuing the Quest.

* * *

When the reduced quartet returned, she was ready, having been given instructions by Gandalf minutes before. She had caught some confusing stuff about last light and a thrush knocking, but there were other things taking priority right now.

It was testimony to the discipline within the group that when Thorin returned, cut off all questions and ordered everyone to start packing because they were leaving, no one complained or protested.

She didn't have anything to pack, of course, so she stayed out of the way in the tree, keeping a lookout. After a few minutes though, Thorin called her down and told her to go get provisions. She nodded and flew off towards the kitchens, for once obeying an order without question.

* * *

Perhaps thirty minutes later, she crept through Rivendell, changing her fur to blend in with the various shades of grey decorating her surroundings, trailed by thirteen Dwarves and a Hobbit who were trying to mimic her silence and stealth with various, but for their doing probably quite admirable degrees of success. Bilbo, she didn't fail to notice, was quietest.

She was glad the sky was cloudy and there was only a crescent moon. The brighter the moon and the clearer the sky, the more active Elves tended to be. As it was, there were only a few out and about and by sensing their faer, she was able to avoid them quite easily.

She had spent quite some time exploring Rivendell when she was younger, with the result that she knew probably more about its shortcuts and hidden ways than the average Elf who lived here. Except Elrond, of course, she thought as she tipped around a corner, he had built the place after all. But he was currently occupied. Gandalf had taken care of that.

She couldn't help but admire the trust the Company placed in their leader and, indirectly, in her. As far as she knew, none of them had been told why they were tiptoeing about in the middle of the night, and although most probably suspected they were continuing the Quest, they were currently following her without the slightest idea where she was leading them.

She smiled in relief as their final destination came into view: a wall separating Rivendell from the rest of their trip. She jumped onto the wall, took a moment to make sure they went unnoticed, and lowered her tail down. The wall was too high to climb, Dwarf or Elf, which meant it probably wouldn't be immediately suspected as their way out.

Ori caught on first, as she had expected he would. He grabbed her tail securely, just above the knob, like a few days ago. She heaved him over the wall and let him down carefully on the other side.

Bilbo was next, also as expected. The rest of the Dwarves caught onto the idea quickly, and one by one, she hoisted them over the wall. Bombur required some pushing from below, and by the time the last one was over her tail hurt, but at least Rivendell was still quiet.

She jumped down amongst murmuring. Apparently, they had somehow gotten the idea that once they were on the other side of the wall, they could not be heard anymore. Thorin put an end to that very quickly, then turned to her. "Now where?"

"Follow me," she whispered. They had to double back around Rivendell for a little bit in order to reach the pad that would take them up and into the mountains. Halfway there, she began hearing hurried footsteps and shouting from inside, and she knew their absence had been noticed. She moved a little faster, but that caused Bombur's pots and pans to start clanging against each other very loudly, so she abandoned that plan, instead pressing herself closer against the wall so that when someone looked over it, he had to look straight down to see her.

Once the mountainpath was finally in sight, she pointed it out and slowed to a halt, counting the Dwarves as they hurried past her. She counted fourteen, so they were complete.

Thorin was the last to go by. He only glanced at her for a moment in passing, but she heard it anyway, quiet and flighty as a breath of wind. _"Thank you."_

She smiled, took a last glance backward at Rivendell, and went after them, silent as a moonshadow.

* * *

 **So, we're on the road again. Please review!**


	25. Twenty-four

**24**

Once they were out of sight of the valley, she filled the Dwarves in on the plan as Gandalf had explained it to her. The getting out part had succeeded without a hitch, and now they were to get to the mountains as fast as they could and wait there for the Wizard to rejoin them.

After that, Thorin recited the instructions on the map: Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the key-hole.

Turned out the message had been written in moon-runes, which explained how Gandalf could have missed them. It was quite a stroke of luck that on the exact evening Thorin had decided to show Elrond the map, the moon required to read it was shining in the sky (even though Elrond had no doubt attributed it to fate and the will of the Valar).

Upon asking, she learned that 'Durin's Day' was the start of the Dwarves' new year, and that on that day the last moon of autumn and the first sun of winter were up in the sky together. It was the middle of summer right now.

Well, then that was pretty straightforward. They'd better hurry.

Unfortunately, stealing fourteen horses out from under the noses of the Elves unnoticed had been a bit much to ask for, so that now progress was even slower than it had been before, even more so because they had entered a rougher landscape and the paths were not all that threadable. The Company stretched into a long trail on the swerving rocky paths, and there was always someone that was slowest and had to be waited upon. Dwarves were sturdy creatures, but every day there was one that stubbed his toe or sprained his ankle, and Oín was kept busy every evening trying to fix him up enough to allow the unfortunate Dwarf to keep up the pace the next day. She spent at least an hour every day looking for herbs to aid the healer in that process.

Truly, since Thorin drove them on from daybreak to early in the evening, most of the hunting and gathering of food and other such necessities fell to her anyway. Had she previously spent a few days a week just walking and talking beside the Company, she now flew ahead, behind or above them all day, looking for easy pickings to try and fill the Dwarves' perpetually bottomless stomachs. When they finally stopped, Bombur usually made stew or soup with whatever she had found that day. The glorious meals he'd served them in Rivendell were a swiftly fading memory.

She didn't really mind. The time they had spent in Rivendell had brought them together a little too closely for her liking, and she used the ever-present food shortage as an excuse to leave them alone all day and put some distance back between her and the Company. She didn't think they really noticed. When Thorin finally called his feverish march a night, most of them were too tired to do anything but eat and sleep anyway. And she was often gone the next day before they were well and truly awake.

She was starting to get worried about said leader though. She couldn't quite lay a claw on what the problem was, but ever since they left Rivendell Thorin had been moody, grumpy and short-tempered, that is to say, more so than usual. He seemed obsessed with getting to the Lonely Mountain in time, and in trying to achieve this drove them on so mercilessly that she was afraid some of the Dwarves might drop dead from exhaustion very soon if he kept it up. She wondered what was keeping _him_ walking apart from pure determination, because he was often the last to go to sleep and the first to wake, and the bags beneath his eyes were growing more prominent by the day.

A few weeks after leaving Rivendell, he broached the subject to her himself. She was glad he did, because Thorin's temper was bubbling close to the surface these days, and she had been trying to think up a way to approach the subject without getting a snap back for her troubles.

It was one evening after the sun had gone down, and they were the only ones still awake by a dying fire. The rest of the Company were fast asleep, some with bowls still in their hands. Bombur hadn't even managed to finish his dinner before conking out, something highly irregular for him. Sometimes, increasingly often, she caught herself thinking why she still bothered with the entire Company. It seemed to her like she was doing all the work, hunting and feeding them and now she had to keep watch too, because right now she doubted an approaching army would wake them. And tomorrow they would get up and drag themselves another distance across the unfriendly terrain and the whole cycle would repeat itself.

Apparently Thorin had been thinking along the same lines, because without any indication he asked: _"Could you fly us to Erebor?"_

She tried to hide her surprise at being addressed out of the blue, glad her eyes were closed so he didn't see them changing colour, and responded: **_"No."_**

He seemed more annoyed than surprised by her answer. _"You can't or you won't?"_

She opened her eyes and raised her head to look at him. **_"Both. I can't fly the lot of you to the Lonely Mountain before the end of autumn without falling halfway out of the sky from exhaustion and I won't because I didn't sign up on this trip as a ferry."_**

She got nothing but a grunt back, but she went on anyway.

 ** _"_** ** _But while we're on the subject…"_** she began carefully, watching him for signs of danger like a hawk. **_"What has gotten into you lately?"_**

 _"_ _What do you mean?"_ he asked defensively, looking away from her and into the night.

She got up and walked over to sit down in front of him, filling his sight. **_"You know what I mean. Ever since we left Rivendell, you've been sulking and brooding and restless, driving everyone up from dawn till dusk like cattle. I don't think you've noticed, but if you were to run into trouble one of these days some of your warriors couldn't deliver a fight to save their skins. And if we managed to survive this ridiculous pace you're setting, what were you planning to do? Camp on the Dragon's doorstep for weeks? Why are you pushing so hard?"_**

He refused to answer, hiding his thoughts from her, but she knew him well enough by now to be able to read him like a book. At least the global lines of it. He seemed to be beating himself up over waiting too long to ask Elrond to read his map. He felt they had spent precious time in Rivendell, and now he was trying to win that time back.

Okay, she could understand that, to a certain degree. She tried to make up for her past mistakes too. But she had buried the things that she could not change, while he was allowing it to crawl under his skin and eat him up.

 ** _"_** ** _You know the past is in the past, and you can't change it, do you?"_** she said.

 _"_ _Of course I know that,"_ he growled. She waited, sensing he wasn't finished yet. After a long pause, he went on hesitantly. _"But I can't help feeling that…if only I'd been less proud…We might have had a better chance of reaching Erebor in time."_

Distantly, she was surprised about his sudden opening up. But she had her thoughts elsewhere. She looked away from him for a time, thinking, trying to order her thoughts. **_"I understand that. But you have got to slow it down a bit. Racing as you have been isn't doing anyone any good. We still have a few months to get there. Unless we suffer major delays, I'd say we can still make it."_**

She waited for a moment, but his expression didn't clear enough yet. She went on. **_"I promised to do everything in my power to get you to the Mountain in time, and I think we've established by now that I've got quite a lot in said power. We've still got a good shot at getting to the Mountain before the end of autumn. And if by some chance we don't get there in time, we'll still be fine. Things will work themselves out. In my experience, one way or another, they always do."_**

Despite himself, he felt that the weight that had been resting on his stomach ever since they left Rivendell had lessened slightly. He remembered his conversation with Elrond and, blocking that memory from her since he was quite sure she wouldn't take kindly to him talking about her behind her back, said: _"You're very wise."_

She smiled, perhaps the first deep, genuine smile he'd seen of her. It reached her eyes. **_"It is only my view of the world as I see it. If that is wisdom, use it to your advantage."_**

* * *

The next day, Thorin called it quits when they still had a few hours of daylight left. They had covered less distance than the day before, but the Dwarves were a lot more lively for it. Bombur had enough energy left to roast the three fat rabbits she'd brought, cook some vegetables and add some of the provisions they had taken with them from Rivendell, and for the first time in a few weeks they enjoyed a well-prepared and delicious meal. Morale rose like the embers flying up into the night from their merrily crackling campfire. She wasn't the only one on effective guard duty that night.

Over the course of a few days, Thorin slowed down. Most of the Dwarves were too happy with the change to wonder what had caused it, but some of the older Dwarves had approached Thorin to ask, indirectly, where this sudden change of heart had come from. As far as she knew, he'd only told them he had noticed the tempo was breaking them up and hadn't mentioned the part she had played in it. She was fine with that.

She was still trying to figure out how best to handle the Dwarves. On the one hand, she appreciated their company and had to admit she was straying into the territory of friendship with some of them. And she was happy to learn that Thorin listened to her well enough that she could persuade him into doing something when none of the other Dwarves could.

On the other hand, she couldn't forget what had happened the first and last time she got too close to someone. Every so often, that weight came crashing into her stomach and she told herself that, for her peace of mind and their safety, she had to keep her distance from them. She would then spend a day or two trying to avoid them and talking to them as little as possible, which was hard when the Company didn't understand it was for their own good and kept engaging her in conversation. She had gone too far with them to keep snarling and growling at them and invariably she found herself chatting merrily until reality came crashing down and she realized _Damnit…I've done it again._

The cycle would then repeat itself.

Of course, this variating behaviour did not go unnoticed. Most of the Dwarves had learned by now, after she'd scared a few of them out of their wits, not to ask too many personal questions. She was fine with talking about her powers, and she had even started gently trying to educate them about the wilderness they travelled through (with varying success), but although she was now quite familiar with the personal lives of at least five of the Dwarves, hers was still dark and foggy. She was perfectly fine with keeping it that way.

Thorin was of course the one to break this unspoken rule.

* * *

They were, as per usual, the last ones awake. Thorin was on watch, and would wake Bofur in a few hours to relieve him. She was lying down with her eyes closed, not yet asleep.

 _"_ _Hey…"_

Opening her eyes or making a sound was too much trouble right now, so she just responded with a stray of though that could, with some goodwill, be explained as a sign that she wasn't really interested in having a conversation right now, but he could continue without major danger of losing a limb.

 _"_ _You've been acting strange lately."_

He could feel she was a little more awake now, though you'd never have known just by looking at her. She waited, guarded, for him to elaborate.

 _"_ _One moment you're cheerful and happy, talking and joking with everybody; the next, you're pushing everybody away and you're off for hours on your own."_

He watched closely for danger signs, but after a moment a puff of smoke came out of her nostrils. **_"Guess you're not as oblivious to your surroundings as I thought, then."_**

Ignoring the jibe, he went on. _"I can't get the measure of you. I need to know if I can count on you, if we get into a dangerous situation."_

She let out a low rumble, an indication that she didn't appreciate his remark. She opened her eyes and looked at him orange. ** _"I think I've shown you just what use I am in a dangerous situation. Who saved your asses when you ran into those trolls? Me. Who shook you awake and got you out of Rivendell? Me! I told you, Thorin Oakenshield, that I would get you to the Lonely Mountain, and I intend to keep that promise. All I ask in return is a little privacy, and if that is too much for you, then I will wish you good fortune and leave."_**

She waited for an answer, but when she didn't get one, she closed her eyes and turned her head away from him.

He didn't know what to say to that. He noticed that she didn't mention the one-fifteenth of the treasure she was entitled to. Come to think of it, from what he knew, or thought he knew, about her, she didn't seem at all interested in gold or riches. Why had she gone with them, if not for gold?

He knew Gandalf was the one to add her to his Company. Maybe it was the will of the Valar that she come with them.

 ** _"_** ** _Do you believe in gods, Thorin?"_**

Startled, it took him a moment to get his thoughts in order. Distantly, he wondered whether it was a coincidence that he had been thinking of the subject she asked about or if she had followed his line of thoughts.

 _"_ _What gods do you mean?"_ he asked, just to get the meaning of her question clear.

 ** _"_** ** _You know, Ilúvatar, the Valar, higher beings in general. Do you believe there are any?"_**

 _"_ _Of course,"_ he said. What other answer was there?

 ** _"_** ** _I don't."_**

He blinked, not understanding. _"What do you mean, you don't?"_ he finally managed, incredulous.

 ** _"_** ** _I don't believe there are higher beings in the world,"_** she clarified calmly, as if she hadn't just said something that defied one of the major pillars his world was built upon. She waited patiently while he tried to align his thoughts again.

 _"_ _Why not?"_ he at last threw out.

She flicked one of her ears. **_"I believe what I see. I have never seen anything that, to me at least, indicates the presence of some god or other."_**

 _"_ _Just because you can't see something doesn't mean it doesn't exist."_

She rolled her eyes at him. **_"Please don't take the wind as an example. You can see the effects of the wind. You can see grass bending and you can hear it howling through the branches of trees. You can't see the influence of a god."_**

 _"_ _It is only by praying to Mahal that we are granted victories on the battlefield!"_ he retorted. _"It is only through destiny determined by the Valar that I left the Lonely Mountain alive!"_

 ** _"_** ** _If they're so great, why didn't they stop Smaug from rampaging Erebor in the first place? Shouldn't a god be more powerful than a dragon?"_**

He didn't respond, too stupefied, mouth hanging open, and she went just a little further. **_"Certainly a god should be more powerful than an Orc, and yet there was no intervention from above when Azog decided to lop your grandfather's head off!"_**

That raked up an ancient grief, and she could see from the tears gathering in his eyes and the anger boiling up inside him that she had gone too far. She calmed down a little.

"I'm sorry," she said, eyes turning turquoise in apology.

He didn't offer a reply, turning away from her and shaking his head. She saw the turmoil inside him. He was strong, she knew, and he would get through this all right. She just hoped he would be able to sleep tonight, though.

Neither of them said anything else that night.


	26. Twenty-five

**Author's Note**

 **Been a while since I updated. Experienced a minor, although fairly productive case of writer's block (look over on AO3. Same name, new story)** **. Got over it, and school's almost ending, so it shouldn't be as long a wait until the next chapter. Which will feature Goblins, possibly Orcs, and Kíli gets a flying lesson.**

* * *

 **25**

He ignored her for the next few days, but towards everyone else he behaved the same as always, so she figured he was fine. She could do without their nightly chats, anyway.

Increasingly often, instead of just dozing, she used the time to actually get some sleep in. It wasn't the daily trek tiring her out, she had a far easier time of that than the rest of the Company. A few flaps of her wings got her over a cliff that took the Dwarves nearly an hour to scale. It was the hunting, gathering, and basically looking after them that was the problem.

She had always taken care of herself and done whatever she liked. If she felt like lying in the sun all day and watching the clouds morph by, that was just what she'd do. She didn't hunt every day, sometimes just contenting herself with some grass or berries. And even if she did, she only chased down big prey when she felt like it.

Now, she had no choice but to go after deer and the like, because if she didn't the Dwarves got hungry and were very moody as a result. While she liked the thrill of the hunt, the forced necessity kind of took the fun out of it.

The mountains kept looming ever closer, and she found herself dreading the moment they entered more with every passing day. Their progress would be severely slowed. Valleys that she crossed in minutes would take the Dwarves hours, and she could only hope none of them fell and broke something. The only highlight was that Gandalf had said he would join them in the mountains, which would at least allow her to share the burden of looking after the Company. How he would catch up to them, she didn't know, since as far as she knew he didn't have wings. But she didn't doubt him. Wizards were creative.

The day they reached the mountains came sooner than she had thought. Thorin called them to a halt pretty early in the day and announced they would set up camp at the foot of the mountains tonight and enter in the morning. The rest of this day was to be spent training.

She didn't join them, for he had asked her to fly ahead and figure out the easiest path through the mountains. She found a nice broad, steep path, but then remembered she had to account for the Dwarves' lack of claws and had to go back to settle on a narrower and winding one. By the time she landed next to the campfire, it was evening.

The atmosphere was relaxed. Bombur offered her a bowl of fish-soup, and it wasn't half-bad. She took her time licking it empty before turning to observe the rest of the Company. Most of the Dwarves were either talking quietly or taking care of their weapons. The peaceful zzzzgghhhh of a whetstone across a blade filled the air.

She trotted over to Fíli and Kíli. Kíli was sharpening his sword, and Fíli had apparently laid out every knife he owned. He was surrounded by more than ten daggers of different shapes and sizes, and he was cleaning every one of them in turn. When she approached, they greeted her with a smile and watched absentmindedly as she sniffed the blades.

If they'd known her better, they might have recognized the purple glint in her eyes for a spark of mischief. As it was, it took them completely by surprise when she snatched up a curved, one-sided dagger and sprang to the other side of camp. Her posture, with her chest on the ground and her behind sticking up, tail swaying lazily, spoke volumes.

Fíli narrowed his eyes at her, exchanged a glance with Kíli, and they got up. "No flying, no fire," he warned. She raised her head and huffed at him, but vanished her wings.

A short tussle followed that had everyone hastily moving their things out of the way. In the end it took three Dwarves to keep her down so that Fíli could saunter up to her and playfully ask "Give up?" She blew a puff of smoke into his face and opened her mouth to relinquish his dagger.

She seemed to be in one of her relaxed moods this evening, so much so that when Fíli and Kíli installed themselves once more, she lay down to join them. She was big enough to curl up around them, with their backs against her side and her tail across their legs. At first, they sat tensely with stiff backs, but eventually they relaxed unconsciously and settled against her warm body.

After a while, Kíli, who sat closest to her head, absentmindedly reached out to rest his hand on top of her head and scratch between her ears like he used to do with a cat or a dog back in the Blue Mountains, listening to his brother lecture him on how to properly take care of this-and-that blade. Thorin, who had followed the entire exchange alertly, saw one light blue eye blink open and felt a flash of surprise jolt through him, followed by something close to melancholy and settling in acceptance. She closed her eyes again and began producing a deep, rumbling sound.

Kíli noticed, looked aside, paled and snatched his hand away. He looked about to apologize, when her eyes fluttered open again, this time a deep brown, which, as they had learned, was not a negative colour. She blinked once, very slowly, almost like she was winking at him, lifted her head like it weighed a ton, and dropped it into his lap.

Kíli looked at his brother, who shrugged. Hesitantly, he lowered his hand to scratch around her ear again. She blew out a long puff of dark smoke, and continued purring.

* * *

Thorin had been brooding, as he usually did. This time about the perils of the mountains they would face in the morning. He was dragged from his thoughts by the erupting wrestling match, and when it ended, he wasn't at all sure who had won.

Although she'd surrendered the knife the whole thing had started about, she had been surprisingly gentle while fighting. While he agreed with his eldest sister-son that wings and fire would have given her an unfair advantage, he couldn't help but notice she kept her claws in and was very careful with them. When Bofur jumped onto her after getting her on her back, she did kick him off and sent him crashing to the ground, but her claws didn't pierce his gut like they could have easily done. Her self-restraint made him wonder how much damage she could do when she truly put her mind to it.

And then she'd surprised him even further by laying down with his nephews and even allowing Kíli to pet her. Typically, such an interaction would lead to her pulling away and isolating herself for the next few days. He wondered why this time, she didn't just accept it but even went along with it.

He got his answer later that night, although he didn't recognize it as such.

* * *

Their camp happened to be located next to a lake, formed by the meltwater that came rushing down from the mountains from time to time. It was where the fish they had for dinner had come from, and they had all taken a bath late in the evening, just before crawling into their bedrolls and going to sleep. He had seen her dive vertically into the shimmering surface and come out again with a fat fish in her mouth, which she spent a few minutes picking clean on the shore. What she was doing now however, he didn't quite understand.

For the past half hour, she had been flying from one end of the lake to the other over and over, soaring low across the dark surface. From the way her head kept turning, he'd almost say she was looking for something. He wondered what, but didn't dare ask, as she didn't seem to want to be disturbed in doing whatever she was doing.

Finally, she stopped, hovering above the centre of the lake. The knob on the end of her tail glowed, a prelude, they had learned, to her doing magic, which was always interesting to watch. He sat up a little straighter, intent on discovering what she was going to do.

Apparently having made up her mind, she suddenly shot up, straight up to the dark sky. But she wasn't going alone. She was followed by a swiftly growing spire of water which stuck to the very tip of her tail. It followed her wherever she moved, and as she flew in circles a large mass of water gathered in a rounded bulb below her, still connected through an umbilical cord of water to the lake's surface, which he could see dropping by the second due to the large amount of water she was pulling up.

It was when she started separating the ball into sections that he realized what the shape reminded him of: a flower. She carefully shaped each petal, working her way outwards from the centre and moulding the still flowing water. And it was when she turned it into ice that he realized she had made a rose.

A gigantic, icy rose, rising up from the lake and absorbing the moonlight. Its petals were a transparent silver at the base, and a solid snowy white at the tops. It was lovely, and he felt privileged to see it.

She had been hovering beside the flower, admiring her work. But apparently, she was not yet satisfied, as she flapped a little closer to one of the outermost petals.

When she breathed fire, he felt a pang of sadness that she would destroy her creation. But when fire met ice, it did not consume it, but entered it. Her tail glowed brighter until it was almost painful to look at.

The fire spread through the flower, its swirling colours bringing it to life. It reminded him of the Arkenstone, with the red shimmering through the white. Her tail burned like a star as she kept the two elements from blending together and destroying each other.

She kept up the vision of beauty and perfection for a few more minutes, allowing Thorin to etch the image into his mind. Then abruptly, the light of her tail turned off like a fire being doused, and almost instantly he heard ice creaking and drops splattering the lake as nature took its course.

When the last of the ice melted away into the water and she landed on the shore close to him, he remembered the names Elrond had given her, and wondered what they meant. "Dreamcatcher, Deathseer, Tonguespeaker," he told her. Only the last one made sense.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Dragonegg, Goldsitter, Stoneclaimer," she responded. Without waiting for a reaction, she curled up with her back to him and was asleep in seconds.


	27. Twenty-six

**Author's Note**

 **Yes, I know I promised Goblins, but it got a little long and they just didn't make it in. Next chapter is almost finished though and should be up next week.**

* * *

 **26**

The next day, they entered the mountains. It was even worse than she'd feared.

On the very first day, Dori slipped off the track and fell at least ten metres down before she managed to catch him. Luckily she happened to be flying near them at the time, or she wouldn't have gotten to him before he smashed his skull on the unforgiving rocks below. She was amazed that he hadn't broken anything, since he'd had several violent meetings with the mountainside before she reached him. Hooray for thick Dwarf-bones.

Although she didn't like it one bit, after that incident she and Thorin agreed that she had better stay close to them, and that measure was proven very necessary in the next few days, when she saved three more Dwarves from death-by-plummeting. Unfortunately, it also meant she could no longer hunt during the day, which meant she had to go out and scavenge something to eat once the day's march was over and the Dwarves settled in for the night. Another problem was that, since she had to be ready to take flight at a moment's notice, she couldn't vanish her wings as she walked along the narrow path, and instead had to keep them tucked very close to her body to avoid them chafing against the mountainside.

All this caused her mood to sour by the day, and as such she was not very encouraging to conversation. She was mostly annoyed and slightly surprised when Kíli approached one evening with an air that told her he was going to ask her something and was very nervous about it.

The question turned out to be radical enough to shock her out of her misery.

"Can you take me…flying?"

She looked at him for a long time, and the fact that her eyes were changing colour too fast to keep up was the only thing keeping him waiting. She had never flown with anyone before, the last time anyone had asked had been too soon…after. And she had made it very clear that she did not appreciate people hopping onto her back like she was a common pony. The last time Kíli had ridden her was simply because it was the only way for them to keep remotely quiet, and she hadn't been flying then. However…

She liked him. Out of all the Dwarves in the Company, he seemed the least attached to solid ground and the most interested in trying new things. She was…curious, how he would take to flying. Maybe…for the first time…she could share it with someone?

Quite abruptly, she stood up and gestured to her back. The smile spreading across his face made her feel a bit more certain about the whole affair, and she resolved to give him a ride he would never forget.

She already had her wings out, so he sat higher than last time, practically on her shoulders instead of the hollow of her back. She connected his mind to hers so they could communicate via thought, and then slowly, deliberately, made her way over to the edge of the cliff.

When she looked over the edge and down into the abyss below, she could feel his hands twisting into her mane and his heartbeat speeding up, even as he put on a tough face and said bravely: _"Eh, it's not so bad up here."_

She looked back at him over her shoulder, a smile full of mischief tugging at the corner of her mouth. **_"Not so bad at all!"_**

And then she leapt.

He screamed, and she screamed with him, though her voice was roaring with joy. His ears were plopping and he felt as if he had left his stomach at the top, and then suddenly felt its weight return, narrowly avoiding smacking his forehead into the back of her head as she spread her wings and pulled out of the dive. She soared through the valley, the wind whipping through his hair and into his eyes so that he had to squint them into mere slits to avoid them watering so much.

She swerved to avoid the mountainsides as he pressed himself flat against her neck, then began beating her wings upon exiting the valley. As she gained height, he could feel her powerful muscles working under him. He heard her panting as they climbed higher and higher, finally levelling out when they reached the clouds.

As they glided, he glimpsed over her shoulder and, with a dizzying feeling, saw the whole world spread out beneath him. He could see the mountains they still had to trek through, and tiny moving dots that he realized were animals. Now he understood why she often seemed so uninterested in the daily worries of the Company. They looked like ants from up here, and who bothered with the worries of an ant?

She made a soft noise and turned her head. **_"Look."_** He followed the direction her nose was pointing, and gasped. **_"Is that…"_**

 _"_ _The Lonely Mountain,"_ he breathed, gazing at the solitary peak at the horizon. He had never seen it before, and was overwhelmed with the sight. He could feel her surprise at that thought. Then another feeling replaced it.

 ** _"_** ** _Hold on,"_** she warned. It turned out she meant that purely in a physical sense, because immediately after that he registered a sensation that he had felt only once before: a gentle tugging on his mind. The previous experience was the only reason he didn't panic. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and, rather than being pulled, flowed smoothly out of his body and into hers.

The first thing he noticed was that the colours looked a bit more subdued than he recalled from the last time he looked through her eyes. The distinctions between the different hues didn't seem as sharp. She blinked in response, taking not one but two eyelids along when she opened her eyes again. He had a glimpse of the vibrant colours he remembered before her vision began to blur and she blinked again, slipping the thin, transparent membrane back over her eye. He had been wondering how she kept her eyes from watering when pulling off some of the aerial acrobatics he'd seen her do, and it seemed this third eyelid was the answer.

He took a moment to savour the feeling of a body so alien to his own. It was the first time he felt her wings, and the feeling of those two appendages sliding over the wind, keeping the rest of her body gliding freely through the sky was unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

She flapped her wings once, to remain at the same altitude, and as he felt the air pushing against her wing-membranes, the motion made him realize that she wasn't attached to _anything_. Her wings gave her the ability to go anywhere she wanted to go, and he was struck by how much bigger her world was compared to his own, and how different. He wondered how many things she had seen that would forever be hidden from those that dwelt on the ground, himself included.

 ** _"_** ** _Ready?"_** she interrupted his musings.

 _"_ _For what?"_ Something in her voice made him fear the worst.

He felt a spark of mischief shoot through their shared minds. She did something funny with her tail that he would have liked to ask her about, had she not at the same time folded one wing and pressed it to her side.

For a moment, they were kept aloft by the momentum and by her still outstretched wing. Then, horrifyingly, they slowed and began to drop.

This time was even worst than when she first jumped off the cliff, because she seemed to have lost all control over their rapid descent. They were flailing in a mass of limbs, the wind catching and releasing her wings making them spin uncontrollably. If he'd still had control over his voice, he would have probably screamed her deaf, but as it was all he could do was panic silently in a body that wasn't his.

Somewhere inside his panic, he noticed faintly that the mind he was currently sharing the body with wasn't panicking at all. Actually, that mind was a quiet landscape of expecting tranquillity, and the more he focused on it, the more that peace trickled into his own mind, until he calmed enough to settle down with her, banish all his worries and doubts and wait for whatever she was waiting for.

Finally, they felt a shiver run up their shared spine, starting at the tip of their tail and working its way up. Once it reached the back of their head, they straightened out their tail and snapped open their wings, catching themselves moments before splattering on the ground. The wind strained their wings, threatening to tear them from their body, and yet they knew with icy certainty that they would hold, because they had the memories of uncountable other times they had done this. It was the best flying-game to play, because they had to win or never play again.

Eventually, they slowed down enough for the wind to give up, and they could flap their wings to hover above the ground. They took a moment to regain their breath, and then she flew skyward again.

As they glided among the clouds back to the Company, neither of them spoke for a long time. Only when the camp was in sight did she direct a thought to him, which seemed to sum up everything that had happened since she jumped off that cliff.

 ** _"_** ** _There's nothing better than flying."_**

 _"_ _Mahal help me, I think you're right,"_ he had to agree. Flying was exhilarating and terrifying and dazzling, and he was incredibly envious of her luck to do it whenever she wanted. Why couldn't Mahal have given them wings when he made the first Dwarves out of stone?

That thought puzzled her, but he was too busy worrying over what could have been to notice, and she didn't press.

When her paws touched down on solid ground again, she pushed him back into his body, and he gripped her mane as the changing proportions and number of limbs dizzied him for a moment. When he finally composed himself enough to slide off, he found his legs wouldn't support him and he had to throw an arm over her neck as Fíli came rushing to his side.

Bearing an idiotic grin and a slightly dazed look as Fíli slipped his other arm over his shoulders and began leading him away, he told her "Thank you."

The two words did not convey the full extent of his feelings (he doubted there were any words that could), but she understood anyway.

* * *

It was raining.

Not the kind of soft droplets that she liked to watch sliding off her coat like tiny stars, but a heavy, persistent thunderstorm that would normally lead her to find some shelter to wait it out. Only she couldn't do that, because she was stuck on a slippery mountain trail with thirteen Dwarves and one Hobbit and no end in sight.

She was frozen to the bone. Principally, her fur was waterproof, but even it couldn't withstand this kind of assault. It felt like she was swimming, with the only difference being that when swimming, she could just climb out, shake her fur and be dry again. In the past couple of hours, she had shaken her fur more often than ever, but every time she was soaked again within minutes. Finally, she had just given up, put her ears back and accepted her fate as being sodden and colder than she had ever been in her life.

She wasn't the only one, of course, and she was at least grateful that she didn't catch colds like the Dwarves did. A sore throat and a runny nose were the last things she could use right now.

The sky was black with the occasional lightning bolt and they had no idea if it was day or night. Not that it really mattered, Thorin had gotten past the notion of covering as much distance as possible a long time ago and was now just searching for anything that might serve as shelter. He wasn't having much luck, because they could only see about three metres ahead and she couldn't go looking for them. The wet stone caused more slippings than ever and she was really afraid that she was going to miss a catch sometime soon.

"Look out!" she heard someone shout up ahead. It sounded like Dwalin, but she couldn't look to see because at that moment there was a crash overhead and suddenly it was raining boulders and rocks as well as water. She heard screaming around her as she pressed herself against the mountain with the rest of them, hoping no one got hit because she couldn't fly to save them now.

"This is no thunderstorm," yelled Balin as the rocky downpour abated a little, "it's a thunderbattle! Look!"

Through the curtain of rain, they saw a vague giant humanoid shape detach itself from the mountain. She looked with her mind to confirm that yes, it was indeed a living creature. Then she spotted something else that made her blood turn to ice.

"Well, bless me!" shouted Bofur in front of her, sounding awestruck. "The legends are true! Giants, stone-giants!"

"Skip the blessings, MOVE!" she shrieked, pushing him in the back with her nose to get him walking. "We're standing on one!"

Lightning struck, illuminating at least five Dwarven faces turned to her in dawning horror. Then the giant up ahead threw a piece of mountain at another that came around behind them, knocking it back, and Thorin was screaming "Take cover you fools!" as a low wail pierced the air, reminding her of whale-song, except that this particular sound made her wish to be anywhere but here.

They felt the stone they were standing on tremble, and at first she thought their giant had been hit again. Then it became apparent that it was much, much worse, as the stone split vertically, separating the Company and forming two crudely shaped legs.

As the giant raised himself from his sitting position, another came up and headbutted him. The force of it sent their giant crashing into the mountainside, allowing their half to scramble off his knee and onto what she quickly deduced was good old lifeless mountain.

Not a moment too early, because no sooner had the last Dwarf jumped the gap than the giant regained his feet and the fight raged on above their heads. They watched in terror as the two behemoths smashed into each other, apparently unaware of the screaming ants hitchhiking on one's knee. Then suddenly, the fight escalated, when a third giant appeared out of nowhere and joined the fray. He threw a boulder at their giant, smashing into his head and – she gasped when she realized. She wasn't the only one – effectively beheading him.

Just like that, the battle was over. Slowly, as if in slow-motion, almost gracefully, the gigantic corpse began to fall, and they watched frozen in place as their friends sailed past.

Then the knee began to bend, and lurched forward to find an inevitable and violent meeting with the side of the mountain. She saw and felt the horror of those around her, and the wide-eyed terror of those approaching as they pressed themselves against the unforgiving wall behind in a futile effort to escape their deaths.

She jumped off the path to get around those blocking her way, and beat her wings once to pitch into the closing gap. There was a white flash, and then the rocks smashed together with a definitive crash.

"NOOOOOOO!" she heard Thorin's anguished yell, but that seemed to mean she was still alive. She was so tired…Groaning filed into her ears, but none of it seemed pained…she pushed her eyes open a millimetre to peer around, and saw Bofur, and Bombur, and Fíli. She took that to mean everyone was fine, and then she saw the relief on Thorin's face as he rushed around the corner and found those presumed dead still very much alive. She heard Glóin assuring everyone behind them that everyone was all right, and still alive…good old Glóin, so practical…

She looked around a little further, and she noticed how smooth the stone surrounding her was…that wasn't natural, was it? What did she know about stone? But she also saw that it was strangely dented. If one drew a line along the surface of the stone and extrapolated it, it would form a perfect spherical shape around her and all the Dwarves surrounding her.

Huh. That explained why she felt so exhausted.

She spotted a gap in the smooth sphere, and got up to examine it. When she realized how deep it went, a warm feeling spread inside her despite the rain still beating down. Apparently, her rigorous stone-carving had unearthed a hollow space in the mountain, and now that it was open to the air, it would serve as a perfect cave for them to wait out the storm.

She clambered inside and did a quick take-in of her surroundings. It smelled a bit musty, but otherwise clean and more importantly, dry. The cave ran into the mountain deep enough to house all of them comfortably. She did a quick sweep of the surrounding area, and when she found no living beings nearby, looked around to see the first Dwarves joining her.

"No one wake me unless we're about to be killed," she growled at everyone and no one in particular, and settled down on the floor. There was sand on it, but she was too tired to find that strange. She was asleep before she hit it anyway.

* * *

She had no idea how long she had been sleeping, but judging from the exhaustion still wearing her limbs down, it couldn't have been long. She groaned, annoyed with whoever had disturbed her.

"Wake up!"

She opened her eyes, noticing thin lines running through the sand. Somewhere in the back of her head a warning went off, but her mind was too fuzzy to register it and take appropriate action.

She heard Dwarves waking up to confusion around her, while she tried with all her mind to figure out what was weird about this.

And then the floor gave way beneath her.


	28. Twenty-seven

**Author's Note**

 **This is my longest chapter yet, and it's got Goblins all over. Enjoy!**

 **paulavara140: Slipped my mind last week, but thank you for your review, I'm glad you like the story.**

* * *

 **27**

They clattered down in a mass of limbs and shouting, bouncing off the walls of a tunnel that had way more bends than was necessary. In one particularly mean curve, she landed the wrong way on her left wing, and she felt bone bend and then snap when it could bend no further. She screamed in pain, but it was lost among the screams surrounding her.

Finally, they hit something and didn't fall further, instead piling up together in a heap of grunting and moaning. For a moment, there was a pause as everyone tried to get their bearings, then their attention focused on a high shrieking that she had never heard before but that she somehow doubted bode very well.

She looked underneath a leg and saw a sight that made her blood freeze: a swiftly approaching horde of some of the ugliest creatures she had ever seen. They looked like Orcs, but smaller and stunted and paler.

"Look out!" she heard one Dwarf shout, but uncoordinated pulling wasn't the most effective way to untangle a heap of intertwined bodies. All it did was turn them into a helpless writhing heap, easy prey for the Goblins to fall upon.

And fall upon them they did. In the blink of an eye the world shrank to shrieking and howling in her ears and a disgusting smell of rotting and damp fungus in her nose. She lunged forward and sank her teeth into milky flesh. She tore out a chunk and spat it out, disgusted, baring bloodstained teeth.

She snapped those teeth at the Goblins in front of her, but instead of shrinking back like normal creatures were supposed to do, they opened brown-toothed mouths and snarled back at her, while others attacked her from behind, yanking on her tail and grabbing her all over with those filthy hands. When she turned to claw them off, others took their places behind her. She heard the Dwarves put up a decent fight behind her, but they were simply overpowered. She couldn't fend them all off, and when they turned out to have brought chains and slapped one over the bridge of her nose and behind her ears, she had no choice but to follow along as they herded her and the rest of the Company away on dangerously swinging bridges and crooked wooden structures.

She heard Dwarves shouting and cursing around her, but she had no idea if they were all there or – her stomach lurched – if some of them had maybe fallen off in the skirmish. The Goblins didn't seem to be able to count or otherwise keep track of their prisoners. It was too crowded to make sure and her head felt funny. Heavy and there seemed to be something blocking her nose. Maybe she had hit something on the way down? She couldn't exactly start a systemic self-examination right now, though. Her broken wing panged painfully with every step and every Goblin who pushed against it, but there were more pressing matters right now, such as being stuck underground with thirteen Dwarves, chained and on their way to who-knew-what. Did Goblins eat their prisoners? From what she had seen so far, she sure wouldn't put it past them.

Despite her injuries, she was fairly certain she could've escaped their captors, gotten away for long enough to fix her wing and then made a break for the surface if it had been just her. But she wasn't alone. There were fourteen others down here with her, and it was with a bit of a surprise that she realized she wasn't leaving without them.

And so she stayed, biding her time and shoving off one Goblin with her tail who must've thought she was tame enough for him to ride to their destination. She flung him into a wall and he didn't get up again.

* * *

If he could have, he would have banged his head on the wall for being stupid enough to get into this mess. Exhaustion was no excuse for a lack of discipline, and now look what it had gotten them into! Captive at the hands of Goblins, with no possibility for escape in sight.

Now was not the time to beat himself up over it, however. He needed to keep his wits about him, he thought even as a song reached his ears, accompanied by a horrendous excuse for music. The song was about the treatment still awaiting them, and it was enough to instil terror in even the bravest Dwarf. As they got closer, he saw the singer.

The biggest, fattest Goblin he had ever seen, covered in warts, with an enormous double chin resembling a beard. A staff topped with a mountain goat's skull and a crown adorned with spikes looking suspiciously like bones led him to believe this one might just be their king. As he sang the final verse of his song, he gored one of his subjects on his staff and flung him off the platform, before using a puddle of smaller Goblins as stairs to climb back onto his throne.

By then, the procession had come to a halt, and a careful look around followed by a quick head count confirmed all Dwarves were here. He saw Skyfire near the front, sitting with her tail curled around her. Her eyes were green and her head was cocked to one side as if she couldn't quite figure out what was going on here. A rusty chain encircled her snout, effectively muzzling her. He knew that even without her voice she was perfectly capable of making herself understood, but it did restrain her ability to bite or breathe fire. He winced as he saw one of her wings sticking out in an awkward angle. This greatly diminished their chances of escape.

"Catchy, isn't it?" the Great Goblin asked in a cheerful, conversational tone, drawing his attention forward again. "It's one of my own compositions."

"That's not a song," yelled Balin from behind him, ever the diplomat, "that's an abomination!"

"Abominations, mutations, deviations," the Goblin demurred (Thorin was _not_ calling him king). "That's all you're gonna find down here."

Apparently that was some sort of cue for the rest of the abominations to roughly search their party and relieve them of their weapons. They weren't too good at it (he knew for a fact Fíli had more daggers than that) but what good did it do them? There were too many to fight, even when they still had their weapons. No, the best thing to do was keep his head down until he figured out a way out of here. There was a price on his head, after all, and despite living inside a mountain he knew from experience he would be surprised at the amount of intelligence the Goblins managed to gather from the outside world.

"Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom?" the Goblin demanded, jumping down from his throne again, going from conversational to offended in the blink of an eye. "Spies? Thieves? Assassins?" His voice rose with every accusation.

"Dwarves, Your Malevolence," one of his underlings reported.

"Dwarves?" the Goblin repeated, voice at its highest as if being a Dwarf was the most heinous crime yet.

"We found them on the front porch."

"Well, don't just stand there! Search them!"

And this time they were pretty thorough about it, unearthing every hidden weapon as their…ruler egged them on: "Every crack! Every crevice! And what is THAT?"

He finally had noticed the only female member of their Company. Thorin honestly wondered why it had taken him so long. She was not that easy to miss, after all.

"Well?" the Goblin asked as silence fell. "What is that?"

She just looked at him coolly, raising one eyebrow and tapping the end of her tail on the floor, apparently waiting for him to reach the obvious conclusion by himself. Thorin knew she could talk to him if she wanted to, but she didn't seem to consider him worthy of a mental conversation. He couldn't say he disagreed. Also, it might not be a bad idea to leave him thinking she was just an animal.

He was just thinking of a way to divert the conversation, when he was spared the trouble by one of the regular Goblins, who stepped forward holding a chandler he picked out of a pile at his feet. "It is my belief, Your Protuberance, that they are in league with Elves!"

"Made in Rivendell," the Great Goblin read, studying the underside of the chandler. "Ugh. Second Age. Couldn't give it away." And he chucked it over his shoulder.

Thorin sighed internally. He was aware of Nori's bad habits, and it seemed he hadn't kicked them yet. But he really didn't see the point of berating him over it right now. Besides, Dori would probably give him an earful about it later anyway, provided they all made it out of here alive.

Ignoring Nori's muttered "Just a couple of keepsakes…" the Goblin went on: "What are you doing in these parts?"

Thorin took a breath and half a step forward to try and come up with a reasonable story, when he felt a hand on his shoulder and u squeezed past him. "Don't worry, lads. I'll handle this." Since the healer was one of the more sensible members of his Company, he let him.

"No tricks!" the Goblin warned them. "I want the truth! Warts and all."

Before Thorin could frown about the peculiarity of that statement, Oín took over and said, of all things: "You're going to have to speak up." He held up his eartrumpet, which had apparently fallen victim to their not-so-gentle treatment. "Your boys flattened my trumpet."

"I'll flatten more than your trumpet!" the Goblin roared, springing off his throne and advancing on them, but suddenly finding his way blocked by Skyfire, who had apparently deemed this the right moment to jump in. She didn't do much besides stand there and staring at him, but her eyes had by far the most unusual look he had ever seen there. It seemed as if the fire she had inside her had somehow made it to her eyes. He could even see tiny flames flickering in her irises, and he wondered what emotion was attached to that.

As she had the Goblin's complete attention right now, and that of everyone else besides, she positioned herself deliberately between the Goblin and the Dwarves and slowly unfolded her wings, which had the dual effect of focusing the Goblin's attention on her and shielding the Dwarves from view.

Her right wing stretched out fully to the edge of the platform, a seemingly white field in the half-darkness. Her left wing was bloody and the outermost of the long bones to which the membranes attached was broken cleanly in two. The bottom half was dangling down, ruining the effect.

She looked left as if she only now noticed the broken bone. Then, in a measured and controlled movement, she moved the knob on her tail to the point of the break. It lit up, and the two ends of the bone shot back together, trembling slightly. She then gently slid her tail over the break, reattaching the bone pieces. When she removed her tail, her wing was still bloody, but the edge was as smooth as it if it had never been broken in the first place. She flapped her wings experimentally and, satisfied, looked up at the Goblin again, a decidedly smug look in her eyes.

He understood what she had done. If she was powerful enough to mend a break that should have taken several weeks to heal in a few seconds, what other magic was she capable of performing? He could feel the power balance shifting to their advantage.

But before he could act on it, Bofur pushed his way forward and undid that advantage in a shorter time than it had taken to acquire it.

"If it's more information you want, I'm the one you should speak to!"

The Goblin's eyes shifted over to him and he produced a minimally respectful "Mm-mm?"

Unfortunately, it soon became apparent that that was as far as Bofur's improvising ability would carry him. Now that all eyes were on him, his talent for informative speech seemed to have dried up.

"We were on the road. Well, it's not so much a road as a path. Actually, it's not even that, come to think of it, it's more like a track. Point is, we were on this road, like, a path, like, a track. And then we weren't. Which is a problem, because we were supposed to be in Dunland last Tuesday…" he trailed off, looking back for help.

"Visiting distant relations!" Dori chimed in helpfully, trying but not really succeeding to make something out of Bofur's babbling.

Bofur seemed to take courage from it anyway. "Some inbreeds on my mother's side–"

"SHUT UP!" the Goblin howled, cutting off Bofur's warbling.

In the ringing silence that followed, Skyfire stepped in front of them again.

The chain over her snout, while keeping her mouth shut, did not stop her from growling. And she was growling now. Compared to this, growls she had previously given the Company could only be described as warning or even playful.

This was different. It was deep and low and dangerous, and its meaning could not have been clearer.

 _Do that again, and I'll tear you apart._

Then, quite abruptly, she sat down and brought her hind paws up to her head. She hooked her thumbs under the chain looping around her ears and slipped it over her ears and off her nose.

The chain fell to the ground and now she was snarling in earnest, eyes aflame again.

He could see this escalating within the next few seconds, and so he did the only thing he could.

"Wait!" he called, summoning up his authoritative voice and stepping forward. Every eye turned to him, including the two pairs he had been aiming for.

The Great Goblin was the first to recover. "Well, well, well! Look who it is. Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, King under the Mountain." He bent forward in a deep, mocking bow. Thorin just waited for the mockery that was to follow. And sure enough–

"Oh, but I forget! You don't have a mountain. And you're not a king. Which makes you…" the Goblin nodded gravely, "nobody, really."

He heard the guffawing of the Goblins around them, and had to resist the urge to follow Skyfire's example and growl at them.

The look in the Great Goblin's eyes shifted from mock pity to cunning. "I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just the head, nothing attached," he added, as if the statement hadn't been crystal clear in the first place. "Perhaps…you know of whom I speak?"

The whole cave was silent as a crypt. Even Skyfire had stopped growling and was watching the scene intently.

"A pale Orc…astride a white warg…"

Blood pounded in his ears as the ghosts from the past rushed to meet him. _Impossible!_ "Azog the Defiler was destroyed," he managed to get out, teeth gritted. "He was slayed in battle long ago!" He remembered it as if it was yesterday, the blood spouting from the stump of the Orc's hand after he cut it off, the creature's anguished screams as his fellows dragged him underground to die.

The Goblin just laughed as if amused. "So you think his defiling days are done, do you?" He turned to a tiny, misshapen Goblin dangling in a chair next to him. "Send word to the Pale Orc. Tell him, I have found his prize…"

The ugly thing cackled as it zoomed off down a cable into the dark tunnels. He followed it with his eyes, contemplating sending Skyfire after it to chase it down, but really, what was the point? Azog was done for, he had known that truth for many years. Perhaps the Goblin was just a little behind the times. He squashed the uneasy feeling in his stomach and focused on the present.

"And while we wait for our guest to arrive, why not have some fun?" the Great Goblin was saying, an evil look in his beady eyes. He gestured to his underlings and sat back on his throne.

Immediately, the Goblins swarmed forward, prodding and poking their prisoners and laughing at every wince or yelp. Meanwhile, some others leaned down to investigate the weapons still piled up in front of the throne. They probably didn't have such good stuff down here, he reasoned, when one of them gave an affronted shriek and skipped back.

He craned his head to see what had frightened him so, and saw Orcrist, half unsheathed, gleaming in the firelight. Elrond's words echoed in his head: _"…Orcrist, the Goblincleaver…"_

"I know that sword!" screamed the Great Goblin, as his underlings' abuse of their prisoners increased tenfold. "It is the Biter, the blade that sliced a thousand necks! Slice them, beat them, kill them!" and then something he knew could only be meant for him: _"Cut off his head!"_

Before he could blink, five Goblins were upon him. While four of them kept his limbs down, the fifth raised a dull black dagger. In despair, he looked around, trying to spot Skyfire. She had saved them before, but one glance told her she was trying and failing to keep at least ten Goblins off her. He could expect no help from her.

He looked at the tip of the curved dagger again. An unusual calm came over him and all sound seemed to fall away as he looked into death's cold face. This was it then, the end. He would never see his home again, or gaze upon the magnificence of the Arkenstone. He called it into mind, its beautifully vibrant reds and purples and greens, surrounded by a bright, radiant white–

* * *

Using her wing to shield her eyes from the white light, she waited until it abated a little to avoid being blinded before peering at its source. All the Goblins had been blasted off her, and she herself had to dig her claws into the mouldy wooden planks to stand her ground.

Abruptly, the light went out and after her eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness, she saw the most welcoming sight in her entire life: Gandalf. Although she preened that she had done fairly well in his absence, as the entire Company was still alive and together, it was an enormous relief to be able to lift the burden off her shoulders and hand it to Gandalf.

In the utter silence following his appearance, the Wizard spoke up, all the ages he had lived heavy in his voice: "Take up arms…and fight."

"Fight!" he cried, and that broke the spell. Everywhere around her, Dwarves sprang to their feet, dived for their weapons and began slashing at every Goblin in sight. Soon, the dusty air was full of their cries of pain, and unlike with the trolls, she didn't have any trouble with it at all.

She helped Bofur and Bifur hoist Bombur to his feet, and then noticed Gandalf running off the platform, followed by a messy line of Dwarves. They were moving too much to count, so after taking a quick glance to determine no one of importance was left behind on the platform, she took wing and went after them, although not before setting the platform and everything on it aflame.

She fully trusted Gandalf to lead them out of here, so she flew at the tail of the column, breathing fire at everyone who came too close. The wooden structures they were running across seemed to have been designed to intersect randomly and so their path crossed a lot of others and the Dwarves were kept busy enough fending off sudden attacks. While she kept an eye on things to make sure no one was overwhelmed, she noticed the wide variety of combat techniques used by the Company.

On the one end, she saw the more military Dwarves like Thorin, Fíli and Balin defend themselves with impressive-looking swordsmanship and execute strategically sound manoeuvres such as cutting the ropes a dozen Goblins were dangling from, sending them headfirst into the unforgiving rock.

On the other end, she saw Bombur squash a Goblin just by landing on him, and Oín standing in the middle of a crossing and swinging a piece of wood in circles and quite successfully managing to hit every Goblin that dared come within reach.

She couldn't see what was so hard about just following the Dwarf in front of you, but of course they managed to split up, so that she suddenly found one half running a level above the other half. She flew overhead and steered the upper half right on a path that would eventually re-join the lower half.

Overall, she tried to look for weak points that she could use. When they threw down a ladder to bridge a gap, she waited for all the Dwarves to cross, and then flew between the last Dwarf and the first Goblin, taking the ladder with her and slowing the Goblins down. Of course, they would soon find another way around, but she wasn't really trying to stop them. She was just trying to help her party escape.

Speaking of which…their progress slowed almost to a halt, and she heard a commotion further on. She flew over to see what was going on.

Just as she landed behind the Company to try and keep the approaching Goblins at a distance, she heard a great creaking and the Great Goblin burst up through the wood from who-knew-where.

"You thought you could escape me?" the Goblin asked impressively, before poking and slashing with his staff at Gandalf, who fell backwards and was pushed back on his feet by the Dwarves behind him. She looked worriedly at the planks beneath her feet, which creaked and cracked ominously.

"What are you going to do now, Wizard?"

Gandalf answered that question by first poking the Goblin in the eye, then slice open his fat stomach, and then, after a resigned "That'll do it.", cut his throat.

Unfortunately, the Great Dead Goblin's massive bulk crashing down was too much for the already frail structure, and suddenly she was looking up at the Goblins left behind as her wings filled up and they went crashing down. She grabbed the wood with her claws and tried to use her wings to steer them around the worst rocky outcroppings, but she couldn't really tell if it was through her help or just sheer luck that after a daredevil ride down into the dark they eventually arrived on solid ground with all occupants still alive.

She let go and landed beside Gandalf as he untangled himself from the pile of kindling the fall had turned the wood into.

"Impeccable timing," she said, panting. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, what with no immediate threat in sight for the first time in a while and only quiet grunts in her ears, she could feel the tiredness coming back. She also became aware of the heavy feeling in her head again, but now it was accompanied by an itch in her nose. She tried shaking to clear her head, to no avail.

Gandalf just smiled at her tiredly and they watched as the Dwarves began digging themselves out. "Well, that could have been worse," she heard Bofur the Optimist say, and all in all she had to agree.

But of course, it couldn't be that easy, and it had only been a few seconds before the Great Goblin's corpse came crashing down and the voice of Dwalin sounded muffled from inside the great heap of splinters: "You've got to be joking!"

She shook her head, fighting down the urge to laugh, and began digging them out. She pulled Bofur out easily, but when she shoved a piece of wood off Kíli, the itch in her nose became too much and she sneezed, narrowly avoiding singing his fingers off.

"Hey, watch it!" he yelled as he yanked his hand out of harm's way. "I thought you didn't get colds?"

She gave him a dirty look. "Let me rephrase that. I don't get colds, unless I'm dragging a miserable bunch of Dwarves through the mountains in the pouring, drenching rain." He grabbed her offered tail and she pulled him out. He landed on his back and she saw the expression on his face shift from amusement to horror. "Gandalf!" he yelled, urgently enough for everyone to stop what they were doing and follow his gaze.

She felt a stone drop into her stomach as she saw a swarm of Goblins wash down over the ridge. _That's too much…_

Dwalin seemed to have come to the same conclusion: "There's too many, we can't fight them!"

"Only one thing will save us," shouted Gandalf hurriedly. "Daylight! Come on, on your feet." He grabbed Oín's arm and yanked him bodily upright.

The sight of imminent death approaching rapidly seemed to have given the Dwarves new strength. She dug one or two out, but most of them clambered out by themselves, coughing and covered with sawdust. She checked the woody mess and finding it empty of faer, turned to see Gandalf yelling "This way!" and disappearing into a nearby tunnel.

She hesitated, looking around desperately for another way out, but the Goblins' shrieks intensified by the second so she had very little choice. She picked the lesser of two evils, laid her ears flat against her head, and ducked into the tunnel.

Immediately, her nose was filled with dampness and fungus and less savoury smells, but she blocked them all out and focused on the spot of light at the end of the tunnel to avoid losing her head.

She was the first one out of the tunnel, and as she heard the Dwarves clamber out behind her the deep violet sky was more beautiful than ever.


	29. Twenty-eight

**Author's Note**

 **And it got longer and longer and longer...**

 **The second half of this chapter will be up in a few days though, it's almost done.**

* * *

 **28**

"Six, seven, eight, nine…Bifur, Bofur, that's eleven…Fíli, Kíli, thirteen…and Bombur, that makes fourteen." As they grouped around him, trying to catch their breath, Gandalf was doing a headcount.

 _Uhm…are we missing someone?_ She looked around, but everyone seemed to be there. Perhaps Gandalf had miscounted?

"Where's Bilbo?" Gandalf pondered out loud. A moment of silence followed, as everyone looked at their surroundings and affirmed that said Hobbit was in fact not with them. She sniffed the air, but couldn't smell him, or see his fae. _Oh no…_

"Where is our Hobbit?" Gandalf asked the group at large. When no one answered, he raised his voice: "Where is our Hobbit?!"

As the group erupted in a discussion of what had happened and whose fault that was, she felt a stone drop into her stomach and her belly churned with shame and dread as she realized that she had not once thought about the Hobbit since waking up. The only seemingly possible explanation of his absence was that he had been left behind in the mountain, doomed to die a slow and painful death at the hands of the Goblins. She dropped her head and squeezed her eyes shut to keep the tears in. Gandalf had trusted her to guard the Company in his absence, and she had failed him. And now poor Bilbo was paying the price.

"I'll tell you what happened," Thorin's bitter voice cut through her thoughts. "Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it!"

 _Huh?_ She focused on him. "He's thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth, since first he stepped out of his door. We will not be seeing our Hobbit again. He is long gone."

She frowned. That didn't make sense. While she had often wondered what had compelled Gandalf to take him along on the trip, and she had noticed his homesickness, she didn't understand why he would pick exactly this moment to peep out. They had spent days trekking through the mountains, and he could have chosen any time to give up and turn back. She tried to remember if she had seen him at any time during their captivity, but nothing came to mind. Then again, he was small and easily overlooked, so she couldn't be sure if he had been down there with them or not.

In the long and awkward silence following his words, she wormed her way into Thorin's thoughts. **_"What are you talking about? What happened?"_**

And he told her about a conversation he overheard between Bilbo and Bofur, the night before. How Bilbo had announced he was turning back, to Rivendell, and how Bofur had tried to assure him he understood how the Hobbit was feeling, only to get snapped back that he couldn't possibly know, because the Dwarves didn't have a home to feel homesick for and didn't have anywhere to belong.

 ** _"_** ** _Why didn't you wake me up?_** " she demanded. If she'd at least known, she could have kept a closer eye on the Hobbit.

 _"_ _You told us not to wake you unless we were about to be killed,"_ he reminded her irritably. She was about to make a snappy retort, then realized she couldn't actually fault him for that. **_"Damn it!"_**

"No, he isn't."

And there he was, alive and well. She was so happy to see him that despite her usual insatiable curiosity, it didn't even occur to her to ask how in the world he got there. If he had grown wings and flown over the mountain to rejoin them on the other side, she couldn't care less. Judging from the relieved gasps and sighs all around her, she wasn't the only one.

"Bilbo Baggins!" Gandalf said, relief and laughter in his voice. "I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life." Which, considering the length of his life, was saying something.

Bilbo stepped closer into the group, exchanging smiles and shoulder pats. "We'd given you up!" exclaimed Kíli. "How did you get past the Goblins?" asked Fíli in an awed voice.

The Hobbit laughed somewhat awkwardly, and stuffed his hands in his pockets as the rest watched in expectant silence.

"Well, what does it matter? He's back," Gandalf said quickly, as if he was trying to push past something. For a moment, she wondered if she was imagining things, but in the happiness of the moment she decided that it really didn't matter. He was here, alive and safe, and the how of it didn't interest her.

But it did interest Thorin. "It matters. I want to know," he skated over Gandalf's hurried change of subject. But it turned out he was not so much interested in the how as in the why. "Why did you come back?"

For a moment, nobody spoke. Then Bilbo turned to the Dwarf and began talking with a confidence she had never heard from him before. "I know you doubt me, I know you always have. And you're right, I often think of Bag End. I miss my books. And my armchair, and my garden. See, that's were I belong. That's home. And that's why I came back." She tilted her head in confusion at that statement. "You don't have one – a home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back if I can."

A silence followed. Thorin bowed his head ever so slightly, and she knew Bilbo had earned a respect from him that hadn't been there before. From all of them, for that matter. She saw Gandalf with a small, satisfied smile, and for the first time, she thought she was starting to understand why he had insisted the Hobbit come with them. He had more in him that she'd thought he had.

Their peaceful moment was interrupted by the sound of howling cutting through the air. She heard it first, ears shooting up, but only a second before the rest. They recognized it immediately.

"Out of the frying pan…" Thorin muttered, panic building fast.

"And into the fire," Gandalf finished for him. "Run. RUN!"

* * *

And so they ran, again. Down the hill, jumping off rocks and avoiding trees, while the sounds of the howling grew ever louder. She knew they were wargs, partly because they sounded just a little different from their smaller relatives, but also because they were actively hunting them, and wolves typically avoided two-leggeds. She could smell them now too, along with the putrid stench of Orcs. That made her run even faster, until she was ahead of the others and reached the edge of a cliff.

She didn't hesitate for one second, spread her wings and jumped off the cliff, escaping into the sky.

She hadn't been free of the ground for more than two seconds when she heard: "HEY! Where are you going?!" She slowed to a halt, hovering in mid-air and looked over her shoulder to see the rest of the Company standing on the edge with mixed expressions of disbelief and desperation and a little betrayal on their faces.

 _Oops._

She turned around and flapped back up. The moment her paws touched solid ground again, the last few stragglers arrived and realized that it was a dead end. Panicking, they turned to Gandalf. "What do we do now?"

The Wizard looked wildly around for any means of escape, but there really was only one way to go, and she realized it the same moment he did.

"Up into the trees. All of you! Come on, climb! Climb!"

As the first wargs came into view, snarling and howling to the rest of their packmates, the Dwarves climbed the trees with a speed she hadn't expected from them. Since the lower branches were a bit too high to reach, they climbed on each others' shoulders and then hoisted them up, going as high as they could so they didn't fill up the lower parts of the trees. She stayed as low as safely possible, grabbing Dwarves and shoving them upwards to the branches above her. Eventually, the Dwarves were spread out over three or four trees like so many birds, the important difference being that they didn't have wings and couldn't fly away.

Of course Bilbo was the last, and by the time he reached the trees everyone was up already. She wondered what he'd been up to, since his sword was suddenly dripping with blood and it certainly wasn't his own, but she wrapped her tail under his armpits like a snake and lifted him off the ground, just as the first warg reached the trees and began jumping up, barking madly. He was soon joined by his fellows and she was now glad of something that had often saddened her before: neither wolves nor wargs could climb trees.

She snarled at the mass of wargs now surrounding the trees, and when one jumped too close to her she slashed him across the nose, sending him whining with his tail tucked as blood poured into his nostrils.

Suddenly, all wargs stopped their assault on the trees and quieted. The way they ducked their heads made her look up with a feeling that she knew what was coming.

She wasn't disappointed. A pure-white warg stepped onto a rock, head and tail held high to show she was alpha of her pack. But instead of silver like the moon, her eyes were beady and yellow. And on her back…

She didn't need Thorin's horrified whisper to match this Orc to the many descriptions thrown out by various Dwarves throughout the past months: "Azog."

The pale Orc ran an ugly fork-like piece of metal placed where his left hand should be through the fur on his steed's back, and the white warg bared her teeth in reaction. He began speaking in that vile language of theirs and although she couldn't understand it, she felt her hackles raise and her own lips peel back from her teeth. Towards the end of his little speech, she discerned Thorin's name and the one she remembered to be his father's, Thráin.

"It cannot be," she heard Thorin say weakly.

The Orc spoke up again, this time raising a mace with his right hand and pointing it at Thorin. She didn't need to understand his words to know that was bad news for him. His talk ended with a roar that was accompanied by a loud snarl from the alpha warg, urging her pack forward.

Luckily she saw that coming, and she had already started to make her way higher up the tree, because now the pack was attacking them with a vigour far transcending their earlier attempts. Wings weren't the most helpful appendages while climbing a tree, but there wasn't a hair on her head that even considered vanishing them now and besides, she had been climbing trees all her life. She knew how to hold them so that they didn't get stuck behind branches.

 ** _"_** ** _Gandalf!"_** she screeched as she found a perch halfway up between Bifur and Glóin.

 _"_ _I've called for help,"_ the Wizard responded. What that help consisted of, he did not say. _"Try to hold them off."_

 _Easier said than done._ She felt the tree swaying dangerously. All too soon, she heard it creaking and swaying too far. "Look out!" she yelled as the tree began to fall. "It's going over, jump!"

Like squirrels, they jumped from one tree into the next. Judging from the lack of anguished screams, they had probably all made the jump. And a good thing too, because this tree couldn't bear the combined force of its neighbour falling into it and a number of Dwarves jumping over. They had barely regained their grip when it began falling too. They jumped again, and again, until the last tree was standing on the very edge of the cliff, heavily loaded with thirteen Dwarves, one Hobbit, one Wizard and her.

Not for long though. With a jolt of horror, she could feel this tree leaning over too. She surged past at least eight Dwarves and the Wizard, grateful for her tree-climbing experience, until she perched on the very last safe branch high in the top. She felt herself beginning to fall down, quickly wrapped her tail around what was left of the trunk up here and began flapping. The tree dragged her down a few metres before she managed to hold it, beating her wings furiously and holding the half-uprooted tree at an angle above the ravine. It creaked ominously, but as long as the Dwarves didn't move too much she should be able to hold it for some time.

But she couldn't help them from all the way over here. Desperately, she called to Gandalf, who was just below her in the tree. She could see him searching around desperately for something to use, and then he realized they were sitting/hanging in a pine tree. He grabbed a pinecone, held it up for her and shouted "Fire!"

She called up the fire from her belly, opened her mouth and showered the pinecone with a cloud of smoke. She shook her head and tried again – more smoke – before giving up and shaking her head at Gandalf. The cold must have messed with her fireducts, she thought. She knew she still sneezed fire, but she couldn't sneeze on command. She briefly considered lighting the end of her tail on fire, but it was pressed against the wood and she would sooner set the tree on fire than be of any help. He was on his own.

Good thing he was a Wizard. He thought for a moment, then started blowing on the end of his staff, lighting it up like a match and holding his pinecone against it until it caught fire. Then he shouted to the Dwarves below him and lit up another pinecone, which he dropped to them before throwing his first one, which hit a warg squarely on the nose and sent him yelping from the scene. The Dwarves got the idea, used their first burning pinecone to make more and began hurtling them down, pelting the wargs with painful hot objects. It worked, but unfortunately also had some side effects.

The cones didn't stop burning when they hit the ground, and soon the area surrounding the tree was on fire as well, and it started nipping at the roots. In addition, the hurling Dwarves jostled the tree so much the delicate balance in which it was hanging was disrupted and it dropped to an almost horizontal position before she could pull it steady again. The abrupt fall turned the triumphant cheering into shocked yells as the Dwarves scrambled for hold.

Ori lost his, grabbed hold of his brother's legs and almost pulled Dori down with him. A terrified "Mister Gandalf!" later, Gandalf was only just in time with lowering his staff so Dori could grab hold of its end. This did mean said staff was out of commission, which meant no more firecones. Which was probably a good thing anyway, because the sea of fire now raging on the cliff, while having played on any animal's natural fear of fire and scared all wargs but the white one away, also caused the roots of the tree to lose their grip to the earth and led to the tree now hanging in an all but horizontal position, which meant it was increasingly harder for her to keep it up.

She hadn't been very well-rested to begin with, what with their nightly adventure with the Goblins and her stone-carving before that, and now she could feel her wings aching and pain shooting through the muscles every time she flapped. Her tail was cramped around the trunk from holding on so tightly, and every breath rasped through her chest like she was tearing her lungs apart.

"Gandalf…" she panted, hoping to communicate that help had better come fast because she couldn't hold this up much longer. He looked back at her with worry etched into his face, but then both their attentions were pulled to the scene playing on the cliff again.

Thorin was rising from where he had been holding onto the branches for dear life like the rest of them, and the unsheathed sword in his right hand paired with the thick piece of wood in his other left no doubt as to what he was planning on doing.

She screamed at him and scrabbled at his mind **_"Don't-stop-foolish-you-suicide-come-back-no!"_** , but it was locked down with purpose and determination and she couldn't get a hold. Horrified, she could only watch as their leader began running between the flames dancing deadly on either side of him.

Azog had been waiting for him with his arms spread wide, inviting him, but he had never intended to fight fair and as Thorin approached, he dug his hands into his steed's back and kicked her forward. The warg took a leap off her rock and her outstretched left forepaw hit Thorin square in the forehead, knocking him onto his back. She shrieked as she felt pain shoot through her own head.

Azog turned and came back for another pass. Thorin came back up too late and turned to see Azog's mace take a swing at his face, hitting him on the chin. She felt his jaw cracking. This time, he didn't get up again.

She heard various Dwarves yelling, and she wanted more than anything in the world to let go of the tree and defend her alpha, but she knew that by saving one she would kill fourteen, and he would never forgive her for that. Neither would she.

So she could do nothing but scream in agony with him as she felt sharp teeth pierce his body as the warg picked him up and held him in her mouth like some trophy. Her rider raised himself in victory and his lips peeled back in a cruel, mocking smile.

But the Dwarf still had some fight left in him, and in a desperate amount to save himself he whacked the warg on the nose with Orcrist, causing her to rear up in pain and throw him onto a nearby rock, where he lay gasping for breath. Through the curtain of smoke and sparks, she saw Orcrist had fallen from his hand, just out of reach.

Azog said something to one of his henchmen, who slid off his warg and made his way over to the Dwarf. When she saw him press a dagger to Thorin's throat and raise it to strike, she shrieked and made to intervene, no matter what it would cost. Then she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. An Elvish blade, gleaming blue in the firelight.

Two seconds later, the owner of that blade was revealed to be none other than their tiny, insignificant-looking little Burglar, who in a fit of utterly unimaginable bravery tackled the Orc to the ground. He got up first, and with an uncharacteristic savagery planted his sword into the Orc's stomach, marking what was probably his first kill in his life.

As soon as the Orc stopped moving, he yanked his sword out and went to stand in front of their alpha, swinging his sword in a way that was meant threatening but also revealed his complete lack of sword-playing skills. He was effectively marking himself as easy prey.

She looked down even as she felt Thorin slipping into unconsciousness. Now, if anything, was the time for the actual fighters to intervene, but they all seemed frozen in place, clutching the branches, watching the scene unfold before their eyes. And she couldn't leave her place before they were all out of the tree.

Now was probably the time for her to rally them into fighting. She should deliver some inspirational speech to gather up their courage, or shame them for the fact that their Hobbit had more bravery in his little toe than all the rest of them combined, or something in between. But she really didn't have the time or the energy to find the words, and she had always been one for action rather than talking anyway.

So instead, she asked for one last effort from her tired, aching wings, and dragged the top of the tree a little higher. The inevitably resulting jerking of the trunk lead all the Dwarves to instinctually turn their heads in alarm, which had been her objective.

She roared at them _move!_ and although they couldn't possibly have understood the exact wording – maybe they just thought she would burn them to ashes or something if they didn't – it seemed to have done the trick. As one, the Dwarves scrambled off the tree and threw themselves at the Orcs and wargs, backing up Bilbo's clumsy threat.

They put up a good fight, killing many and wounding more. Even Bilbo threw himself back into the fray, though he was more a hindrance than a help. Still, he managed to stay alive, that was the main thing.

In the end, they were outnumbered, as she had known they would. They were driven back, facing a dark depth on one side and snarling wargs on the other. But by this time, Gandalf, who had infinitely more talent for seeing the bigger picture than any Dwarf, had managed to make his way down to almost the roots, finally freeing her to let go of the tree and land between both fronts to join the fight.

She couldn't fight the way she was used to, so she had to fight the way she had been used to. She vanished her wings. She wouldn't need them in this fight.

Tonight, she was a wolf again.


	30. Twenty-nine

**29**

She raised her head and tail, making eye-contact with the white alpha _fierce-proud-strong_ , and set her ears forward _confident_ before baring her teeth _challenge!_

The warg snarled back, accepting. They stood opposing, growling, sizing each other up.

She knew that conflicting animals typically avoided all-out fighting as much as they could, since it could lead to injury and possibly death for either or both participants. Instead, they tried to settle their differences by use of posturing, attempting to determine which one of them was most likely to win the fight should it come to that. Which meant that if she could convince the white warg that attacking her would be to her disadvantage, the conflict was over and the enemy pack would leave them alone.

She took a good look at her opponent, calculating. She had fought wolves before, and she had grown bigger since, in more than one way. Set side by side, the warg was probably a few centimetres bigger, but not enough to give her a definite advantage. The white alpha was heavier than her, which meant she had to watch out for her bulk pinning her down, but she was faster and more agile, and she was confident she could get out from under her in time.

There was another factor at play here, an abstract concept that was an important element of any animal confrontation. One of the Elves had phrased it very accurately in a book she'd read once, which had coincidentally been the first time she had been able to define the idea for herself: _The fox is running for its dinner, but the rabbit is running for its life._

She would not in any circumstance back down from this fight. She would fight to the death if she had to, and she knew she projected that in her body language. She also knew the warg could see it, even if she did not understand it.

She took a sudden, threatening step forward, snarling _this pack-mine me-defend you no back-off me fight-you stay away!_ and was rewarded with a flinch and half a step back. Even when the warg took two steps forward to make up for it, she knew she was gaining the upper hand.

She took a chance then, lunging forward as if about to attack, but stopping at the last moment, snapping her jaws _you-submit!_

It was enough. She could see it in the way her tongue flicked out to lick across her snout, how her body shifted to _uncertain_. If she pushed just a little further now, she would roll over and belly-up _submission you-dominant_ to her.

She didn't push. She had no wish to humiliate the warg in front of her own pack like that, when it was not their fault but that of the Orcs on their backs that they were in this situation to begin with. Instead, she threw her head back and howled _victory!_ proud but lonely up into the dark sky.

If this were a true pack, her packmates would join their voices to hers and their song would echo through the night. But it wasn't a real pack, and she wasn't the alpha.

Now that the threat had subsided, she allowed the raised hackles on her back to return to their usual flat position and covered her teeth again. With a last warning glare in the white warg's direction, she turned away, head and tail still high, and made her way over to where Thorin was still laying.

She could feel his fae slipping out, and seeing him like this, still and not-breathing, reminded her of the other time she had been in this position. But that had been another time, and another creature, and she was smarter and stronger and _better_ now. She grabbed onto his fae with determination and began pulling it back. She wasn't strong enough right now to set it fully back into his head, but she could hold on until Gandalf got there to help.

The warning "Behind you!" came just in time for her to turn and see the white warg leaping at her, claws outstretched and jaws open to kill. She met her head-on, shrieking _outrage!_ because how dare she attack when they had both understood the conflict to be over and her back was turned?

They grappled for a time. She knew how wolves fought, and she knew the warg would instinctively try to get her onto her back while staying on her feet herself. They both knew that if one of them managed to pin the other in such a vulnerable position, the loser would have no choice to accept defeat and submit. Which, considering how vicious the fight was turning now, would almost certainly result in a torn-out throat.

They slammed their bodies against each other, and now the warg's bulk was definitely to her advantage, as she managed to push her over and tried to bite into her now exposed belly. She yelped, kicking up with her hind legs to try and keep the snapping jaws away and managed to slash at her head, giving the warg four long, deep claw-scratches across her nose and face. She gave a loud yelp of pain and sprang back, blood soaking her white fur, allowing her opponent to get to her feet again, panting.

 _will fight-you don't-want_ , she signalled, letting the warg know it would be entirely her own fault if she decided to attack again and got killed.

She read her answer in the way a moment of eye-contact passed between the white warg and her rider – she wondered now if there was more to the relationship between them than just rider and steed. Did Azog have such power over her that she would attack again for him, even though all the warg's instincts must be telling her not to? – and she saw the warg's hind legs tense to spring. Resigned, she lowered her head to protect her underside and prepared to fight again, this time to kill, when the matter was taken from her paws and a large scaly bird leg sailed past her eyes.

Gandalf's help had finally arrived.

* * *

She and the warg were separated as the Eagles swooped down and plucked both friend and foe from the cliff, the former being dropped onto the back of a member of their flock while the latter were released in mid-air to plummet to their deaths. The huge birds used their wings to fan the flames in the direction of the remaining wargs, and since it wasn't her own fire she had to be very careful not to get too close.

One by one, all Dwarves were flown to safety. She saw Gandalf fall from the tree with full confidence that he would land on a feathered back, but it wasn't until one of them had picked up Thorin with its huge talons and began carrying him away as gently as if he were a newly-hatched chick that she made her own escape, taking Orcrist in passing.

She soared after the Eagles, flapping her tired wings until she caught up with the last one. She gave him a weak screech to let him know she was coming, before flopping down onto his back. There were Dwarves on already, but her eyes were too heavy to see who they were and she just shoved Orcrist at them to be rid of the sword.

She looked for Thorin's fae and when she saw it was only still attached to him by a mere thread, she grabbed onto him. Despite being beyond exhausted no force in the world could have gotten her to let go.

The last thing she heard before the world turned black was Azog's powerless roar of anger and frustration.

* * *

The Eagles dropped them on a tall stone pillar called the Carrock. As soon as his Eagle landed, Gandalf slid off and hurried over to where one of the others had placed the unconscious Dwarf. "Thorin!"

Upon seeing the Dwarf unresponsive and motionless, the Wizard closed his eyes and moved his hand over his face, meanwhile muttering some sort of magic incantation until the Dwarf's eyes fluttered open again.

"The Halfling?" was the first thing to come out of his mouth once his eyes focused on the worried face above him.

"It's all right," the Wizard reassured him, leaning back in relief. "Bilbo is here. Quite safe."

The Hobbit was standing at an uncomfortable distance from the group and watched with an expression that was equal parts awkward and relieved as Thorin staggered to his feet. "You!" the Dwarf boomed out. "What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed!"

Bilbo fidgeted uncomfortably as the Dwarf went on aggressively, advancing on him, while the rest of them watched in stunned silence. "Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild?"

He was directly in front of the Hobbit now, and his final accusation was so soft they had to strain their ears to hear it: "That you had no place amongst us?"

A long and heavy silence followed his words, until Thorin finally broke the tension by wrapping his arms around Bilbo and pulling him into a bone-crushing embrace. "I've never been so wrong, in all my life!"

The Company erupted in cheers behind them as the two stood as equals for the first time. Finally, Thorin stepped back, a look of deep shame on his face. "I'm sorry I doubted you."

"No, no, I would've doubted me too," the Hobbit hastened to say. "I'm not a hero. Or a warrior." With a sideways look a Gandalf, he added: "Not even a burglar." resulting in a good-natured chuckling.

The Eagles still circling the Carrock screeched loudly, alerting the Company to their departure. The last one of them tipped sideways and spread out a wing, causing its final passenger to slide down it and end up sprawled out on the rock.

"Is she all right?" asked Kíli in a worried tone while Thorin pulled a frown into his forehead as if he was trying to work something out.

Gandalf eyed her for a moment. "She's fine." Then, when Kíli made to go over and check, he added: "She'll probably bite you if you wake her up now, though." which brought the young Dwarf to an abrupt halt. "She's just exhausted. The best thing you can do for her now is to leave her alone and let her sleep."

"What if she rolls off the edge?" Bofur piped up, casting a worried look at the stone platform they were standing on.

"She is a creature of the sky, she won't die by falling out of it," Gandalf reassured them. "Let her sleep."

"Is that…what I think it is?" Bilbo asked out loud, diverting their attention.

One by one, the Company turned and followed his gaze, until all were staring at the distant horizon where a single solitary peak broke the monotonous flat line.

"Erebor," Gandalf confirmed, nodding. "The Lonely Mountain. Last of the great Dwarf-Kingdoms of Middle-Earth."

"Our home," breathed Thorin, eyes transfixed on their distant destination, for the first time in years.

A bird flew by left of them, chirping loudly. "A raven!" cried Oín. "The birds are returning to the Mountain!"

"That, my dear Oín," Gandalf noted as they followed the bird's flight until it was but a mere speck in the sky, "is a thrush."

"But we'll take it as a sign," Thorin decided, giving the Hobbit standing next to him a rare smile. "A good omen."

"You're right," Bilbo agreed, basking in his newfound place beside their leader. "I do believe the worst is behind us."

* * *

 **And that's a wrap on the first movie!**

 **At this rate I'll be done halfway through 2022...hum.**

 **Next chapter is a break at Beorn's and some lore. Probably. My chapters have a tendency to get longer than I intend them to, so maybe I should just say 'coming soon' instead…**

 **Thanks for sticking with me so far and have a nice weekend!**


	31. Thirty

**30**

The sound left her ears the moment she opened her eyes, before she understood its exact meaning. But it had been loud and angry and familiar. She sniffed the air, frowning. Last night she had been too exhausted to notice, but now she could smell his scent heavy in the air around her.

She got up and stretched her wings, wincing as she felt the ache in her muscles. She shook the stiffness from her body and looked around for the first time. She saw the bump on the horizon. Their destination, the Lonely Mountain. From up here, it seemed so close, and she was tempted to just fly over and be there already.

But, she sighed to herself, Dwarves didn't have wings. She should probably go check on them and adjust herself to their slow travelling speed once more. Looking around at the forest surrounding her, she wondered where Gandalf had parked them.

Two thoughts connected and a shocking suggestion came to mind. _He did not…_

A quick peek through Ursel taught her that yes, he had.

* * *

Despite still being a little rattled by Gandalf's statement that the monstrous bear they had only just managed to shut out of the house was actually their host, a skinchanger, and to top it off not a great fan of Dwarves, most of the Company had fallen asleep by now. Thorin couldn't blame them. The straw covering the floor of the barn was, as far as bedding went, much preferable over the cold, damp rock they had had to make due with over the past few weeks.

He couldn't sleep though. Every time he closed his eyes, the skull-white face of Azog appeared before him, mocking him and reminding him of those he had yet to avenge. All those years, he had rested in peace in the comforting knowledge that the Defiler had died of the wounds he caused him and now, it seemed as if not a single day had passed. The look in the Orc's eyes told him that for him, that was true, and also that there was only one way for this to end. They could not both survive. At the end, one of them had to die.

Not exactly knowledge beneficial to a good night's sleep.

A cough caught his attention, and he saw that he was not the only one left awake. Clearly, Gandalf had waited for the rest of them to nod off while pretending to be asleep himself. Now, he was very slowly making his way over, trying not to disturb anyone, until he could sit down opposite of Thorin and look him in the eye.

"I want to know," the Wizard began in a subdued, yet grave voice, "what there is between you and Sky."

Moments passed as thoughts flew through Thorin's head. Having been unconscious at the time, he had at first had no idea that Bilbo hadn't been the only one to save him. Since arriving here, he'd heard the details from the rest of the Company, who collectively told him that she had jumped between him and the warg, stood motionless for minutes, suddenly howled out, in Bofur's words, "the most chilling sound you've ever heard", been attacked by the white warg, fought the beast back again and at that point, the jumbled account said, the Eagles had intervened.

Judging from how much he knew about her by now, he'd wager she'd done a good deal more than that, but exactly how far that stretched he wasn't sure. He thought about asking Gandalf, but somehow it seemed wrong to involve him in something that was, in a way, between him and her. So instead, he just asked: "What do you mean?"

The Wizard raised one eyebrow in an I-think-you-know-exactly-what-I-mean sort of way. "I've never seen her so upset," he told him flatly. "When you were being tossed around by Azog, I thought she'd bring the roof of the world down on us screaming. I want to know why she is so invested in you."

Thorin hadn't heard any screaming, but then he'd been solely focused on beating the Orc to a pulp and blocked out everything else, audibly and mentally. He hesitated, but he could see Gandalf wasn't going to let this go, so he reached into his pocket and pulled out Ursel, holding the red stone out wordlessly.

The Wizard's forehead creased in a frown as he surveyed it. He stretched out a hand to hover above the stone, eyelids fluttering as he detected whatever energy radiated off it. "That explains it," he muttered, so softly Thorin had to strain his ears to hear.

"What?"

Gandalf relocated his gaze from the stone to the Dwarf's face. "You were dead, Thorin," he stated bluntly.

Thorin blinked.

"When I revived you on the Carrock, you were not breathing. Your heart wasn't beating. For all intents and purposes, you were dead."

"You brought me back. What does she have to do with it?"

The Wizard looked at him very seriously. "I do not have the power to bring someone back from the dead. The only reason I was able to do so with you, is because she held onto your soul, your essence, whatever you wish to call it and kept it from leaving your body.

"That's dangerous, for her more than for you. If she gets pulled along with you, she's gone. I don't think she would have done it for anyone else. I doubt she would have done it for me. But she did it for you." A small smile appeared on the wizened face. "Be aware of your good fortune. She is a ruthless enemy…and a powerful friend."

Just then, a familiar flapping could be heard outside and said friend came in through a high window that he had discarded as being too small for the bear to fit through. To be honest, he would have pegged it as too small for her as well, yet she slipped through without much trouble. Via one of the ceiling beams she slunk down to the soft ground. The various animals they shared the space with followed her movements, but didn't give a reaction beyond that. He wondered if they were just naturally easy-going, or if she'd been here before.

She spared him a quick glance (he'd quickly fumbled Ursel back into his pocket as soon as he heard her) before the tips of her ears lit up and she engaged in silent conversation with Gandalf. She blocked it from him, so he didn't know what they were talking about, but she grew increasingly agitated as the conversation progressed, to the point where she was pacing back and forth on the straw with her teeth bared at the Wizard, who was making gestures as if trying to calm her down.

Finally, she ended the conversation with a definite snap of her jaws as her ears turned off again. She shook her head, it seemed to Thorin in disbelief, before jumping up to the ceiling beam again. The last thing he saw of her was her tail, following the rest of her out the same way she came in.

* * *

She walked through the woods, marking trees and bushes here and there. Not claiming, just making her presence known. This was his territory, he would find her before she found him.

Leaving her scent lingering here had another purpose. She could smell the wargs and Orcs. The wind carried their stench down. They weren't here yet, but they were not far, and approaching fast.

She heard a branch creak behind her, and smiled internally. He was remarkably stealthy when he wanted to be, but a beast his size couldn't walk through a forest this dense without stirring something. She stopped and turned around.

Slowly, his form emerged from the shadows. A huge black bear, more monstrous than any other bear she'd ever seen in her life, with thick grey scars criss-crossing over his snout. Golden-brown eyes focused on her above the white gleam of his teeth. A growl rumbled deep within his broad chest, a challenge and a warning before he surged forward.

She ducked to avoid the heavy paw swinging at her, and darted underneath him. She yapped _us-fight yes c'mon then!_ at him before dashing forward to bite halfway up his hind leg. Not deep enough to get through the thick black fur to the skin, but enough to be lifted off her feet when he turned around to swipe at her.

Flying through the air, she let go while in an upward motion so the momentum landed her in a tree. Before the bear fully realized that she wasn't attached to him anymore, she leapt to the next tree, and then another, tauntingly chirruping _too-slow you too-slow can't-catch-me!_ all the while.

The bear roared at her, standing on his hind legs, angry that he was too heavy to climb trees anymore. She jumped to the ground and began racing around him in circles until she saw him beginning to wobble _dizzy WHOA dizzy_. Then she skidded to a halt and turned around to run the other way.

The fight was over as suddenly as it began. She didn't leap fast enough, and one thick claw raked across her shoulder. She yelped high and loud and sprang back, away from him. As she began licking the bleeding wound, he approached her carefully, _worry_ written all over his features, whimpering _sorry sorry sorry!_ and gently nosing at her other shoulder _apology_.

She shoved him away and brought her tail around. She stopped the bleeding and checked to see that no muscles had been damaged, but didn't heal the wound any further so it would leave a scar. It wasn't her first, and it would not be her last.

There was a pause and then as if on cue, they both started changing. A short while later, they stood facing each other on two legs. Even in human form, he still towered over her, and she looked up into his shadowy face, where she could make out the barest hint of a smile.

"You've grown stronger," he rumbled in his deep, heavy voice.

She allowed herself a small smile, crossing her arms. "Not strong enough."

"No," he agreed, a deep chuckle resonating in his chest. "Not yet."

They shifted back into their true forms and she walked away. He followed, falling in on her uninjured side. She limped extravagantly, keeping her wounded leg off the ground altogether, until he bumped into her _enough!_ , almost knocking her to the ground. She grumbled, but put her paw back on the ground and brought the limping back to an almost unnoticeable amount. She lost and he accidentally hurt her, but he wouldn't let her sulk about it for longer than she had a right to.

She had a lot to tell him, but she didn't make a connection between them because he was one of the few that didn't appreciate that manner of communicating. Besides, they had never needed a human language between them anyway.

He sniffed at her and peeled his lips back in disgust even as he twitched an ear _question? explain?_ She knew she smelled of Dwarves – one could not spend weeks in close proximity to them without taking on a bit of their scent – and she knew how he felt about them, so she stomped her feet on the ground and lowered her head a little making _Dwarves_ in confirmation.

He leaned over and ran his nose down her spine, from between her ears to the base of her tail, and she knew even though it wasn't there now that he was asking about the unfinished braid. She'd seen him looking at it where it hung down her back, though he hadn't asked about it.

She confirmed by stomping again, before assuring him _yes good-thing this no-worry yes yes_ yipping and wagging her tail excitedly.

He tilted his head _confusion don't-understand why?_ at her.

She hesitated for a moment, tail slowing, and then answered him. The signal she made was not _exactly_ the one she would use for packmates...but it was closer than she'd like to admit.

As she had expected, he flew into a black rage at her explanation. _THEM!_ he roared, sending every living creature around them fleeing or scuttling deeper into their dens. _them bad evil them enemy!_

But instead of crouching _agreement-apology_ , she looked him in the eye and squared her shoulders _no!_

His eyes widened in disbelief, and then he raged on _them destroy! want-everything them no-respect –_ and here he made a very exaggerated look all around them – _all-of-this!_

She looked at the ground _true..._ and whined _don't-know_. It _was_ true, the Dwarves put value on vastly different things in life than she and he. And she truly didn't understand why she had grown so fond of them. She only knew that she had, and that they had become something dangerously more than just friends to her. It terrified her to no end...and another part of her was undeniably exhilarated about it.

At seeing her so lost and uncertain, the hard lines around his eyes softened and he nosed into her side _okay okay good fine_. He didn't understand it, but he believed her – lying was impossible with this way of communication – and he trusted her. He whimpered _now what? now what?_ as if he were the one lost and needed her to guide him. What did she want him to do?

She made the soft, content sounds of a baby animal snuggled safe and warm in a den against its mother, and pressed her nose to his _yours-ours_.

By putting it this way instead of _sleep-place_ , which meant basically any place acceptable for laying down and resting, she wasn't just saying the Dwarves were staying in his house. She was asking him to welcome them, to let it be for the Dwarves what it was for the two of them: a place to call home, even only for a short while.

He snorted softly and pulled his nose back up, too high for her to reach, but it was enough. When he met them, he would at least hear them out fairly instead of chase them off straightaway. Because she asked him to.

Now that that was out of the way, she stretched out and dropped her chest to the ground, waving her tail _play run-with-me us together yes please?_

They let go of the small part of them that was still human, the part to which bared teeth were a smile and not a threat, and lost themselves to the smells and sounds the dark night was filled with. She felt alive again, with the dirt under her strong paws and the moonlight on her back, and her song echoed loud and long through the darkness.

Sometime past midnight, they came upon an Orc and a warg. After some persuasion, they found out they had strayed past the border looking for the Dwarves. Beorn took care of the warg by crushing its skull with one heavy paw, while she tore out the Orc's throat. They left the bodies untouched for their companions to find, as well as because the meat was _bad-to-eat_.

As they roamed his territory together, guarding it from those they could both smell were lurking just past the border, she told him all that had happened since the last time they met. She did so mostly unconsciously, through the way she moved or reacted, and it was because they intimately knew and understood each other's body language that he wasn't surprised when she left him at daybreak, flying away into the pink sky and in the direction of the house.


	32. Thirty-one

**Author's Note**

 **Guest: Glad I exceeded your expectations :) enjoy today's chapter!**

* * *

 **31**

She woke to gentle fingers on her shoulder, and opened her eyes to see Oín bent over her with a concerned expression on his face.

"Stay still," he ordered, inspecting the gash on her shoulder. "Did you have a run-in with some wargs or something?"

"Not a warg..." she slurred, dropping her head again and nestling deeper into the warm soft straw. "A bear..."

"You mean that bear from last night?" another familiar voice piped up. She considered ignoring him in favour of going back to sleep, but with a sigh, she cracked open one bleary eye and mumbled "Yep..."

She realized sleep was definitely out of the question now, as the flood of their questions washed over–

 _The dream is red. Everywhere she looks, red. A stack of scarlet straw, piled up against a red wall. A vermilion snake shooting out, fangs ready to strike. A crimson face on the ground, features contorted in agony, but still recognizable. The red spreads and grows until it drowns out the image._

"– she all right?"

"Move, out of the way! Get some water!"

"What's wrong with her?"

Voices were ringing in her ears, and she groaned as the light stung in her eyes. Now was not the time to dwell on that, however, because it had been red.

She looked around wildly to see if she recognized anything. Her eyes fixed abruptly and she shot to her feet, slipping past Bofur who came running towards them with a bucket of water and leaping into Ori, knocking him bodily to the ground, away from the straw he had been about to flop down into. He landed on his back and began crab walking backwards, scrambling to get away, eyes wide with shock, but she had already turned away from him.

Having missed its target, the snake raised its neck out of the straw, hissing defensively. She knew it wasn't angry, just scared, but she wasn't as good with snakes as she was with other animals. So instead if trying to talk it down, she watched its every move intently. When it lunged forward to strike, she was ready for it. Like a heron, she caught it just behind the head so it couldn't twist around and bite her, and pulled it fully out of the straw. She exited the barn and released it in the garden, watching it slither under a bush before returning.

Apparently, Bofur had tripped and lost control of the bucket after she flew past him. He and some of the others were drenched, water dripping onto the floor, but they hardly seemed to notice. Ori hadn't moved either, staring at her wide-eyed in shock and terror. She gave him a lopsided, apologetic smile. "Sorry about that."

"Are you all right?" burst out Bofur, shaking his head wildly so droplets went flying off his hat.

"I'm fine," she assured him.

Oín bustled over and began examining her, while Fíli piped up: "You looked like you were having a seizure or something. Thrashing and spasming and rolling your eyes back and everything. It was really creepy to see."

"You scared us all half to death, lassie," Oín told her gently, now trying to peer into her eyes. She humoured him for a moment, touched by his concern, before backing out of his reach.

"It's really no big deal," she told them. "I have those sometimes."

They didn't seem too convinced, but decided to drop it. Instead, they stepped over on a different, but not unrelated subject. "How did you know that snake was there? Did you smell it?"

"No, I saw it." She saw they weren't going to let go of this one, so she lay down with a sigh and resigned herself to that explanation after all. "That's what happens when I have those…seizures. I get…visions."

"You mean you can see the future?" asked Balin, undoubtedly thinking of all the ways that would be useful.

"No. I see death."

They didn't understand that, so she elaborated: "I see how someone is going to die. The visions come in different shades of yellow, orange and red. The redder the dream, the less time I have to do something about it." She nodded to Ori. "Yours was very dark, so I had to hurry."

"So could you predict our deaths?" Nori asked.

She shook her head. "It's not something I can control. It just happens. I don't even know what triggers it," she said, a hint of impatience in her voice.

"So," Glóin began, with an air of someone trying to wrap his mind around something beyond his realm of comprehension, "you get these visions that tell you when someone's gonna die. The colour tells you how much time you've got. And you have no way to prevent it or know it's coming or control it in any way?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"So this could, conceivably, happen when you're flying or something like that?"

"It could."

"But then you…you could die, right? You could just crash to the ground and that's it."

She shrugged. "All true. But what's the alternative? Stay down here out of fear of something that _might_ happen?" She shook her head. "I'd rather die flying than live out my life miserable and scared on the ground."

An uncomfortable silence followed. She could sense that not everyone agreed with her on that. But it didn't matter. It was her life.

Dori picked up the thread of the conversation again. "You say you don't know what triggers these visions." She nodded. "Does that mean you can have visions of anyone? Even people you've never met? And then you just rush over and save them?"

She sighed. "Well, that's another thing I don't particularly like about the whole business. It feels like playing god."

"What do you mean?"

"It feels like, because I get these visions, I have to decide who lives and who dies."

"What are you talking about?" said Kíli, sounding incredulous. "Isn't that why you see these deaths? So you can prevent them from happening?"

She shot him a glance, but addressed the room at large because she saw some of the Dwarves nodding along. "Consider this. If a man eats a poisonous plant and dies from it a few days later, you try to prevent him from eating the plant in the first place, right?" She saw agreement and went on. "But what if a man dies in battle, peaceful and happy in the knowledge that he has died for something worth protecting? Who am I to take that feeling of purpose away from him?" Now she was reaching them. "I've had both. Who am I to choose between life and death? That is why these visions are so hard."

"That does sound like a problem for a god," mused Dori. "I wonder why they give you these visions?"

She was about to give a sceptical response when she caught a warning look from Thorin. He knew where she stood on divinity, and it seemed like he didn't want her to bring it up now. She closed her mouth and shrugged. If they were really that touchy about it, so be it.

"I've been meaning to ask you about that, actually," piped up Kíli. "Like, what exactly can you do? What are your limits? Might be good to know what you're capable of."

"Uhm..." she began. "That's a very open question."

"Okay, um..." Kíli went searching and landed on possibly the worst choice. "Can you bring people back from the death?"

She hesitated before answering. "No. No magic that I know of can relight a fae after it's gone out." She never lied. But she could rephrase the truth a little. Even so, she wasn't meeting any eyes but exchanged a glance with Thorin instead. She had told him about the necromancer back at Rivendell, but while concerned he had quickly decided the Quest took priority, fully trusting Gandalf to deal with whatever it would turn out to be.

"Fae? Out...?" asked Kíli, a look of puzzlement on his face. He wasn't the only one.

"Fae is the Sindarin word for soul, or spirit," she explained. "When I look with my mind instead of my eyes, I don't see colours or structures or the world in general anymore, just faer, like little lights in the darkness. When a living thing dies, its fae goes out, like a snuffed candle." Part of the reason she didn't believe in gods was the fact that faer dissipated at the moment of death. As far as she could see, they didn't enter any halls like people believed. But she didn't think it a good idea to bring that up again.

"So a soul can't persist after the body is dead?" confirmed Balin, looking slightly worried. She saw where that line of conversation would lead to, so instead of a "no" she gave him a less definite "Not as far as I can see." before steering them onto a slightly safer path: "You can't take the two apart. A fae can't survive without a body, nor the other way around. Except mine, that is." which distracted them enough for the worried look to disappear from Balin's face.

"What do you mean?" asked Kíli. She hid a smile, glad he had taken the bait.

"My fae can, in fact, exist for limited periods of time outside my body." She sat up straight and closed her eyes.

They watched as the tips of her ears began to glow, brighter and brighter as her breathing slowed. Then, an ethereal spherical _something_ , emitting a pure white light, rose out of her skull up between her ears. The moment it left her skin, her ears went out.

For a moment, her fae floated above her body. Then, it drifted gently over to Kíli, coming to a stop suspended in front of him. He gaped at it for a while before slowly stretching out a hand as if entranced. The sphere waited for him to come close before suddenly zipping away, bouncing around the barn and through the walls, apparently unbothered by physical barriers.

Oín, ever the physician, averted his eyes from the spectacle to examine her statuesque body. She was still breathing, but very shallowly, and her heartbeat had slowed dramatically. She didn't give any reaction when he poked her, no twitch when he flicked an ear. When he lifted an eyelid, he was shocked to find her iris drained of all colour, indistinguishable from the white of her eye so that only the black pupil was still visible. It did not even constrict when the light hit it. If he hadn't known better, and if she hadn't still been sitting straight, he would have thought she were unconscious and frankly, he'd been quite worried.

The sphere moved to the middle of the barn and remained there. It paused for a moment, as if to prepare itself, then it began pulsing, stretching out into the surrounding space.

Suddenly, it was as if a veil had been pulled over their eyes. They couldn't see anything, and when they cried out in shock, they found they couldn't hear or speak either. They could do nothing but wait.

And soon enough, lights started appearing in the darkness. Big ones first, thirteen of them, for each could only see the others. And then smaller ones, for all the animals they shared the barn with. The smallest were the size of pinpricks, flickering faintly in the darkness.

For a moment, they were surrounded by a sea of light, a sea of life. Then the veil was pulled up suddenly and they could see their world again , blinking and throwing bewildered looks at each other, before as one turning their gaze to the fae still above them.

It slowly descended, coming to rest between her ears and then melting into her skull. The moment it left their sight, she gasped and began breathing normally again, and her eyes fluttered open, colour seeping back in.

There was silence for a while as she waited, wondering what their reactions would be. Finally, Kíli broke it with awe in his voice: "I never knew there were so…so _many_."

"There can't be that many animals here," Glóin protested, looking around the barn.

She sniffed until she smelled a mouse. She followed the scent into the straw, pushing her nose in until it pressed against a tiny, warm body. She squeaked _safe here you-come? safe true-promise_ at him to coax him out. He wasn't afraid of _her_ of course – no animal ate another within Beorn's house – but he was wary of the strangers in the barn.

"They're hidden everywhere," she explained calmly, as the mouse twitched his whiskers and raced back into the straw.

"Why are some bigger than others?" was the next question. "Do they grow with age or something?"

She tilted her head, thinking. "Not precisely. More like…experience. If you've led an adventurous life, your fae will be bigger than a Dwarf's who's spent his life doing the same thing day in, day out, though you might be the same in years."

"And when you die, it goes out?" asked Balin.

"And leaves a black hole behind, yes," she said solemnly as a shiver ran up her spine at the thought. She hated that feeling, more than anything. It was also the reason why she had no qualms with killing Orcs, as opposed to other creatures. They extinguished faer just for the fun of it, making killing into a sport. To her, that was an atrocity beyond words, because taking life was so much easier than creating it.

* * *

They had asked her to stay with them during their introduction to Beorn, but she'd refused. She had done all she could to get Beorn to accept then, but in the end, it was his territory and his choice. Which was why she was currently lying down on the roof, hidden from view so she could follow the proceedings below her but not be noticed. Thorin was the only one who knew she was nearby, and even he didn't know exactly where.

Beorn was chopping wood, the sound of which was almost loud enough to block out the anxious whisperings rising from within the house. He knew they were there of course, and would have even if she hadn't told him, but he was willing to wait for them to present themselves.

Eventually, two figures emerged from the house: Gandalf and Bilbo. It wasn't hard to see the Wizard was nervous, even as she heard him deny the very notion to Bilbo as they went. She silently acknowledged his strategic decision to first bring the least threatening member of the Company with him.

It took Gandalf two "Good morning!"s to get the skinchanger's full attention, by which time Bilbo, clearly intimidated, had inconspicuously made his way behind the Wizard so Beorn probably couldn't see him at all. As Gandalf launched into a fumbled introduction of himself and his fellow Wizards, clearly hoping one of those would ring a bell, she saw the shapeshifter's eyes flitting to where they had come out of the house, knowing full well they weren't alone.

"What do you want?" Beorn cut through Gandalf's ramblings. One of the things she liked about him, he wasn't one to get lost in endless talking either.

"Well, simply to thank you for your hospitality. You may have noticed we took refuge in your uh, lodgings here last night?" He turned slightly to awkwardly gesture at said lodgings, inadvertently revealing the Hobbit.

Beorn's eyes immediately sprung to Bilbo, and she could see his fingers tensing around the handle of the axe he was still holding. However, after a moment, he must've realized that the sudden appearance of the Hobbit posed no more danger than that of a rabbit. "Who is this little fellow?"

After confirming that no, Bilbo was not a Dwarf (she could see Gandalf frowning, knowing he had a number of those still up his sleeve), the Wizard proceeded by introducing the Hobbit with all his ancestry and family relations, none of which meant a single thing to the skinchanger. So, for the second time, he interrupted to ask why they were here, the bearlike growl in his voice becoming more pronounced, a tell-tale sign he was getting annoyed with all this dawdling.

Gandalf began recounting the events which had led them here, waving his arms excessively, it seemed to her, as he did. Apparently, that was some sort of cue, because suddenly Balin and Dwalin emerged from the house, smiling and bowing pleasantly.

And now Beorn did grab hold of his axe for real, swinging it up and holding it like the weapon it was. He seemed torn between attacking and bolting, distracted, for the moment, by Gandalf's continued babbling.

She watched the scene unfold with equal parts amusement and apprehension. Something must have gone wrong in communication, because she couldn't believe Gandalf would have ordered a pair of Dwarves to come out every few seconds. As more spilled out of the house, she could see Beorn was getting quickly overwhelmed, and Gandalf was having a real problem keeping it all tied together.

She barked once, to distract her fellow shapeshifter from the mass of people accumulating in front of him. When he looked up, she took a gliding leap off his roof and landed carefully on the head of his axe. She was a bit big for it, so it wasn't exactly a comfortable perch, but her weight brought it down to the ground quick enough so she could step off. Which had intended effect of lowering the axe to a less threatening position.

She rubbed her side against his legs like a cat, purring comfortingly, before trotting over to the gathered Dwarves, yipping _see? see? this good-thing yes true very-much-so see?_ as she moved between and around them.

He shifted his weight, still a bit restless, and asked "Is that it?" while breathing heavily through his nose.

And finally, the last Dwarf emerged. She saw Beorn's eyes widen in recognition before his body relaxed and he leaned on his axe _fine-then_.

She wagged her tail so hard she had to dig her claws into the ground to keep from toppling over and yapped _see there told-you-so!_ of a pup who _knows_ it's been right all along and can't resist rubbing it in.


	33. Thirty-two

**Author's Note**

 **reika88: Not if you're not a native English speaker you don't. I've looked it up and you're right, so I changed it. Feel free to point out others, but please be nice about it. I try, but I'm not perfect.**

 **Guest: Thanks, I loved writing it! ;)**

* * *

 **32**

"So, you are the one they call Oakenshield."

Beorn had invited them into his house and settled them around his dining table to be curiously sniffed at by his animals, before giving her a pointed look and a jerk of his head. She followed him into his kitchen and told him the whole story of the Quest while he prepared breakfast.

When it came to these things, the body language they used between them like last night was limited. He knew what had happened because of the way her signals had changed since the last time he'd seen her, but it wasn't possible to communicate abstract concepts like prophecies and names. Even if it had been, Erebor and Smaug had been before her time, and the history of Thorin Oakenshield didn't mean as much to her as it apparently did to Beorn.

Sufficiently caught up, he returned to his guests and served them a meal consisting of warm milk, bread, cheese and honeycombs before, because he knew she'd been waiting for it, tossing one to her. She licked it out, occasionally growling _mine!_ at the dogs who crawled closer to try and steal a piece of it. When she was done, she licked off her paws and left the empty shell for them to squabble over.

"The Defiler killed most of my family." She hadn't been paying attention to the conversation, but something in Beorn's voice made her perk up her ears and listen. "But some he enslaved. Not for work, you understand, but for sport." She looked up at him, specifically at the shackle encircling his wrist. He could have struck it off long ago, but she knew why he kept it. "Caging skinchangers and torturing them seemed to…amuse him."

"There are others like you?" Bilbo asked. She saw some of the Dwarves looking at her, but she shook her head. She was something else.

"Once there were many," Beorn said slowly, voice trailing off in a growl.

"And now?" Bilbo persisted. She cringed inwardly, having pegged him as having keener instincts for the tone of a conversation.

"Now there is only one."

Bilbo's mouth closed with an audible snap, and there was an awkward silence as Beorn settled in his chair. "You need to reach the Mountain before the last days of autumn," he stated. Thorin's eyes flicked to hers, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Before Durin's Day falls, yes," Gandalf confirmed.

"You are running out of time," Beorn observed, not sounding particularly concerned. She went to his chair and climbed onto his lap. He let her, absently scratching between her ears. She was a little too big, but she rested her head on his armrest and let the rest of her sprawl out over his legs and the floor. She closed her eyes, drifting off to his description of Mirkwood. It did not sound particularly appealing, but they would have to pass through anyway and so it didn't matter whether he approved or not. He could be worried about her and that was fine, but she would do what she wanted regardless of his opinion.

 _"_ _He's not that bad,"_ a familiar voice drifted into her skull.

 ** _"_** ** _Mmmm?"_**

 _"_ _Gandalf said the last person that startled him was torn to shreds."_

 ** _"_** ** _Well, what do you expect a bear to do when you startle him?"_**

 _"_ _But he's not a bear now."_

She opened one eye and looked at him across the table. **_"Changing his skin doesn't change what he is."_** She seemed about to say something else, but after a pause she closed her eye and blew a puff of smoke from her nostrils.

Beorn had finished his description of Mirkwood's dangers. "But it matters not."

"What do you mean?" Thorin said, and his tone of voice opened her eyes again.

"These lands are crawling with Orcs," their host explained calmly. "Their numbers are growing, and you are on foot. You will never reach the forest alive."

She wasn't looking at him, so when he suddenly stood he surprised her. She rolled off his lap and onto the floor, yelping _hey!_ in indignation, but when he didn't pay attention to her she jumped up onto a ceiling beam to sulk _fine don't-care you don't-need good me fine-here_.

She abandoned her pretence when Beorn spoke again, sensing this was important. "I don't like Dwarves. They're greedy, and blind." He picked up a mouse from the table, holding it surprisingly gently in his huge hands. "Blind to the lives of those they deem lesser than their own."

The tension in the room was palpable, and she slunk her tail down to brush the tip against his back, light as a breath. _Remember…_

Beorn's eyes shifted from the mouse to Thorin. "But Orcs I hate more."

She let out a relieved breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. She wasn't the only one.

"What do you need?"

* * *

While preparations to depart were made, she capered around the grounds, fighting the dogs over scraps and chasing the butterflies in the garden (but not the bees. They stung). Most of the Dwarves wandered around too, only Thorin and Gandalf staying with Beorn. Although he agreed to help them, Beorn really just wanted them gone and she had found Thorin could get very prickly when not receiving the respect he felt he was due. Gandalf wisely stayed to keep the two of them from tearing each other to pieces.

She was still hungry, but she knew Beorn would not appreciate it if she went into his stores now. She didn't feel like risking stings for honey at the moment, but there were other sources of sustenance nearby.

She knew Beorn named all his animals, but she had never quite been able to remember all of them and anyways, it had been a long time since she'd last been here. When she walked towards the herd, quite a few cows were unfamiliar, but some of the older ones she still remembered. One of them, a dark brown animal, had given birth to a black-and-white calf a few days ago. She recognized her because one of her horns was broken off, giving her a comically lopsided appearance. She remembered when and how it had happened (it involved a clumsy cow and a lot of blood). She'd thought of her as Broken Horn ever since.

The Dwarves watching noticed, for the first time, that speaking with animals was more than just making animal sounds. A large part of it was body language and most of them couldn't suppress smiles when they saw her, all black-and-white, stumble through the meadow like a newborn calf with too many legs to keep track of, mooing sympathetically along with the actual calf.

The cow wasn't fooled for a second, of course. Her scent was the only thing she couldn't change. But Broken Horn was very friendly and she was very good at imitating. It was much easier for the cow to pretend that she was a calf when she looked and sounded so much like one, and she just accepted she had two calves for the time being – one on either side.

* * *

She said goodbye to Beorn while the Company hoisted themselves onto their borrowed ponies. "Go now, while you have the light," he urged her, running a hand along the edge of a wing. "Your hunters are not far behind."

She snorted _can't-catch-me!_ at him, like she had the night before. He smiled, but there was worry in his dark eyes. It wasn't that he doubted her ability to save herself, should push come to shove. He wasn't sure whether she would be willing to.

All Beorn's animals were highly intelligent, so she had explained the situation and their hurry to the horses beforehand. When everyone was seated, they took off without any prompting necessary and galloped the whole way, their passengers doing nothing but clinging to their steeds. She ran beside them, keeping pace easily, but she was built as a sprinter and not as a long-distance runner, so she switched to flying after a while.

They raced through Beorn's lands and reached the edge of the forest just before nightfall. As they dismounted, Dwalin observed: "No sign of the Orcs." He grinned. "We have luck on our side."

She knew it wasn't luck so much as the guardian of these lands that was on their side, but she decided not to correct him. In the distance, she saw Beorn appearing over a ridge. He had slipped into his true form again, shedding the skin he wore when around people.

She threw her head back and howled _goodbye not-forever_ at him, a long, solemn sound that carried through the air. She swivelled her ears, listening for a reply, but nothing came. He didn't answer, his way of showing he still didn't agree with her doing this, and even the wargs weren't stupid enough to howl back. It made her feel a bit lonely, somehow.

Her action attracted Gandalf's attention, and his eyes narrowed as he made out Beorn's form. "Set the ponies loose," he ordered, still squinting. "Let them return to their master." Her ears turned back at the designation, but as there wasn't really a word in the Common Tongue to describe Beorn's relationship with his animals she kept quiet.

She watched for a while as the Dwarves pulled their packs of the ponies' backs, the animals patiently standing still, then her attention shifted to the trees looming over them. A sense of dread crept up on her as she peered at where Gandalf was entering to inspect the Elven path they were supposed to follow. She liked forests, having lived a large part of her life in them, but this one had something that made her want to crouch very small.

Maybe it was the way the branches seemed to stretch out towards her like twisted black fingers, or the way the shadows within seemed to swallow even the slightest beam of light. She couldn't quite put her paw on it, but it all boiled down to one definite realization: she did not want to go in there.

"This forest feels…sick," she heard to her right. Turning her head revealed the Hobbit, who was also staring at the forest with a discomfited expression on his face. "As if a disease lies upon it. Is there no way around it?" he voiced her exact thoughts.

She had an unfortunate feeling she knew the answer, and Gandalf confirmed it. Going around would mean a significant detour and subsequent holdup. Privately, she still thought that would be the best course of action, but she knew she would never be able to convince Thorin of that.

She turned away from the trees to watch the ponies gallop away from them. One of them lingered behind, neighing at her. She whinnied back, assuring them that no, she really wasn't coming back with them. The Dwarves were about ready to let Gandalf's horse go, when its rider came striding out of the forest, an urgency in his step.

"Not my horse!" he called out, just before Dwalin could pull the last pack off the animal's back. "I need it!"

"You're not leaving us?" asked Bilbo, sounding as aghast as she felt, as the rest of the Company looked on in confusion.

"I would not do this, unless I had to," Gandalf said, hurrying past Bilbo. Then, he seemed to think better of it and turned to the Hobbit. "You've changed, Bilbo Baggins. You're not the same Hobbit as the one who left the Shire."

She couldn't care less about whatever personal development Bilbo had gone through since he left home. All she cared about was the fact that Gandalf was about to abandon them to brave this wrong-feeling forest alone, while he went off to some emergency. In her not entirely unbiased opinion, the greater emergency was right here, right now, and she wasn't going to let him leave unless he shared with her a very good reason for doing so.

So she waited in front of his horse, not-so-patiently tapping her tail on the ground until he finished his conversation with Bilbo and turned to face her.

"You are not leaving me in there with them," she growled, tail swishing in fury.

The Wizard sighed, undoubtedly annoyed with the delay. So be it. "I have no choice, I must investigate!"

" _What_ must you investigate?" she demanded, snarling. "What could possibly be so important that you're abandoning us here, right when we're about to go through this…this–" she couldn't find the right words, but her flat ears and pacing relayed the message well enough.

He held up his hand, trying to get her to quiet down a little. "It's the Necromancer," he confided in a whisper. "He seems to be a much greater threat than we thought."

She froze mid-pace, then came to stand in front of him again. The anger had left her, replaced by something close to fear. "The one that could supposedly wake the dead?"

"Yes."

She shook her head. "But that's not–"

"I know," he cut her off, still speaking quietly. "That is why I must go."

She stared at him for a moment more, trying to find any sign that suggested he wasn't serious. When she found none, she slowly took a few steps back, freeing his path. As he marched past her, he raised his voice, addressing the Company at large: "I'll be waiting for you at the overlook, before the slopes of Erebor. Keep the map and key safe. Do not enter that Mountain without me."

He climbed onto his horse and continued his advice: "This is not the Greenwood of old." She would have snorted if her stomach hadn't been tied in knots. She could've told them that. She had been here before, but that had been an entirely different forest. "The very air of the forest is heavy with illusion. It will seek to enter your mind and lead you astray."

"Lead us astray?" asked Bilbo. "What does that mean?" _We'll find out soon enough, won't we?_

"You must _stay on the path_ ," Gandalf continued, punctuating every syllable. "Do not leave it. If you do, you'll never find it again." That was apparently the most important part of the whole affair, because when he wheeled his horse around and began to ride away, he repeated, calling over his shoulder: "No matter what may come, stay on the path!"

She stared after the horse's retreating black-and-white tail, trying and failing to ignore the weight in her stomach. Then she turned to the rest of the Company, only to find Thorin had charged into the forest already, as had half the Company, apparently insensitive to the feeling of imminent doom radiating from the darkness.

She followed them, taking a moment at the edge of the trees to try and slow down the hammering of her heart, before slinking into the darkness after them, crouched so low her belly brushed the forest floor.

* * *

 **We're getting closer to the answer to the riddle. Guesses and theories are welcome!**


	34. Thirty-three

**33**

About twenty metres into the forest, the path had degraded from the wide alabaster lane it had been to some chunks of white tiles splattered across the forest floor. It wasn't straight either, swerving and curving around tree trunks and boulders. It went up and down too, she noticed when she saw Dwarves trudging underneath the fallen log she and some others were still walking across.

It made her wonder whether the Elves that had made it had been in their right minds at the time. That wasn't a very comforting thought to have anywhere, but especially not here.

"It smells wrong."

"What does it smell like?"

"I don't know. A forest usually smells of trees and leaves and animal droppings. I'm not getting any of that here. Just...nothing."

It sounded wrong, too. The same as with the smells, a forest was usually alive with birds chirping and leaves rustling, and sometimes the scurrying of small paws when some small animal was spooked. Here, it was silent as a graveyard, and dark as one too. For lack of a better word, she'd say it was dead.

But there was something in the shadows, a presence she couldn't pinpoint. It felt as if the forest itself was watching them, observing their every move, and not with friendly eyes. It felt like they were the prey and some great predator was stalking them, taking his time, safe in the knowledge they weren't going anywhere. It frayed her nerves, because she knew that when it chose to strike they would never see it coming, and how could they escape an enemy they couldn't see, that was everywhere at once?

Though the Dwarves seemed less affected by it than she was, blind creatures that they were, she could tell they felt it too. The cheerful banter they usually traded was short and uncomfortable here, and the few laughs felt unnatural and died off quickly.

All their energy was focused on following the path, since Gandalf had told them to and because there wasn't anything else to focus on except the gloom of the trees around them. It was growing increasingly difficult to find, and every time it made a bizarre turn and they stopped to find it again, she was afraid they'd lost it for good this time…this time…this time…

Eventually, the path disappeared altogether for long stretches of distance. It soon became apparent she was the only one still able to find it: instead of relying solely on her eyes, she traced the faded trail of magic lingering in the air.

There was no predetermined order in which they walked, but one thing had always been clear: Thorin went first, the rest came after him. It was a mark of his qualities as leader that he was able and willing to admit that it was most beneficial to his Quest now that he stepped back a little. He knew by now that her senses and instincts were better than all of theirs combined, and he had to admit this was more her terrain than theirs. He took up position behind her and she led them through the forest.

The same principle applied to food. They had come a long way since departing from the Shire, and when Thorin saw her sniffing and shaking her head at the unfamiliar plants and mushrooms growing copiously around them, he promptly declared they were not to eat anything growing in this forest. When the Dwarves came with the predictable next question of what they were supposed to eat once their packs ran out, she gave them a grey-eyed look and said: "We'd better hope we're out of here before we get to that point."

It was time they were trying to hold on to, and it was slipping through their fingers like water. The forest might be willing to let them pass through, as long as they didn't disturb anything, but if it was as big as she was beginning to fear it was, there would inevitably come a point where they had to choose between starving to death or taking something from the forest. She really didn't know which was the worst option. She hoped against hope she wouldn't have to find out.

Their first misstep in this deadly dance came when they reached the stream Beorn had warned them about.

* * *

 ** _"_** ** _I hear water,"_** she told Thorin. She felt him flinch out of his own thoughts, although if he hadn't been at her tail she never would've known.

 _"_ _If it's the stream Beorn mentioned, at least we know we're on the right path,"_ he replied wearily. She rumbled in agreement.

She did hear water, despite there being only trees and shadows as far as the eye could see, which wasn't very far. But she didn't mention that it wasn't a clear sound, more like a sluggish trickling, as if the water was somehow thicker than usual. For all she knew, it was an echo of the hazy feeling that had seeped into her mind, becoming more prominent with every hour she spent in this forest.

A few minutes later, the bridge materialized in front of them. The relief that they were indeed following the correct path was cut short when it was revealed the body of the bridge was gone, leaving only two crumbling foundations on the shore. She shuddered, unable to escape the feeling that the forest had somehow lashed out at the intruder, torn down this insulting attempt to tame it.

She padded to the water's edge. Behind her, she heard Bofur uncertainly propose they could swim it, only to get shot down by Thorin reminding them what Gandalf had told them just before leaving them here. The water was dark and murky, a black snake breaking up the mass of trees. When she leaned forward to sniff at the fumes rising from its surface, the hazy feeling in her head multiplied suddenly, making her head feel so heavy she almost tipped headfirst into the stream. She caught herself just in time and scrambled back, shaking her head and snorting to lose the feeling.

"Don't breathe it in," she warned them once her head had cleared up a little. A few Dwarves took an uneasy step back, gazing suspiciously at the vapour clouding the water.

"Can you carry us across?" Thorin asked her. She looked at the remains of the bridge, contemplating. She usually wasn't too fond of ferrying people back and forth, but under the circumstances, there was little choice. "If I hold my breath, maybe."

She walked up to the crumbling edge of the arch, carefully putting her weight on the stone until she was sure it wouldn't collapse beneath her when she pushed off to jump. Once she was certain it would hold, she sucked in a breath and jumped forward, spreading her wings to help her reach the other side.

The moment her paws left the stone, she felt something was wrong. She lacked the familiar push under her wings as they filled with air, allowing her to fly or glide. It was as if she didn't have any wings at all, and because she hadn't anticipated suddenly losing them, she didn't quite make it the other side.

Her chest slammed against the broken part of the bridge on the other side, knocking the breath she had been holding out of her. She had no time to worry about that though, because she was sliding backwards, her claws scrabbling to find purchase on the bridge that was crumbling beneath her paws. Her hind legs and tail were splashing through the water and she heard the Dwarves clamouring behind her as she tried to battle the woozy feeling attempting to take over her mind.

Eventually, one of her claws managed to get stuck into a dent in the stone, and she used it to pull herself up just far enough to put one of her hind paws against the rough broken-off part of the bridge, which helped her push a little higher and over the edge.

She lay flat for a moment, closing her eyes briefly in response to the haziness trying to lull her into sleep. Somewhere, she found the strength to get up and stagger off the bridge and onto soft, dry ground.

She stood panting, legs trembling and her ears flat as she tried to make sense of what just happened. Her back legs and tail were soaked, and she was careful not to breathe in too much as she turned to investigate the liquid. It didn't feel any different from normal water, maybe it needed to be inhaled to have any numbing effect, but considering its origins she still wasn't too happy with it sticking to her. She opened her mouth and burned it off, taking care not to let any errant sparks turn to real flames on the forest floor.

At least that still worked as it should.

She beat her wings experimentally, but they encountered no resistance at all as they moved through the air and when she leapt, they might as well have been flapping through a void and she crashed back down.

She tried again and again, leaping higher and higher, but every time gravity pulled her down again and she couldn't even use her wings to aid in slowing down and breaking her fall.

It was much, much worse than at the beginning of their trip, when she hadn't been allowed to fly. She had been miserable then, but at least she'd had the comfort of knowing that she possessed the ability of flight, even if she didn't use it. Now, she didn't even have that small solace. She was grounded, stuck and trapped and she couldn't fly to save her life.

It brought back memories of the only other time she had been flightless, and those were buried memories from long ago.

She shook her head, turned around and jumped back across, this time putting some strength into the push-off and reaching the other side with ease. Still, it was clear the original plan of her carrying the Dwarves across was off the table, so Thorin turned to the Company and declared: "We must find another way across!" while simultaneously asking her: _"Are you all right?"_

She shuddered. **_"No."_** She pushed her nose against his shoulder, clinging to the only thing still to be trusted within this thrice-damned forest.

Her nose stayed there, resting on his shoulder even as Kíli found a mass of tangled vines a little way down the shore which might serve as a makeshift way across. It stayed there too when Bilbo was sent across first to test it out, being the lightest, although she nearly lifted it in alarm every time he almost fell in. By the time he reached the other side, she had noticed that he too was feeling the effects of the vapours. His movements were sluggish, and by the time he managed to collect his senses and shouted: "Stay where you are!" it was too late.

Once he saw Bilbo was going to make it and the vines would hold, Thorin raised the shoulder she was leaning on, a subtle hint to get her head off. Then he marched forward and went after the Hobbit, because he was the leader and he should go as first as possible.

He made it across fine too, but of course the Dwarves didn't have the patience to cross one by one and wait their turn, so by the time Thorin landed on the other shore, the entire Company was dangling in the vines behind him, blocking each other's path and yelling at each other and just making the whole affair much more complicated than it had to be.

She wasn't about to jump into the fray, so instead she raced back to the stone bridge, jumped across again, and then ran down the shore again to rejoin them on the other side.

She couldn't have been gone for more than a minute, but of course things managed to take a turn for the worst in that short time span.

The stag appeared out of nowhere. White and pristine and so at odds with their dark and twisted surroundings that she half expected it to be a figment of her own imagination, about to vanish into thin air any second. The only thing suggesting otherwise was the fact that the attention of both other people on the shore was fixed on the animal as well.

It didn't seem scared or disturbed by them at all, looking at them with only mild interest and contemplation in its gaze. And it was that strange stare that distracted her, so that she didn't notice Thorin was nocking an arrow to his bow until he suddenly raised it and fired.

She threw an instinctive "Don't!" at him, startling him just enough to throw his aim slightly off, so that the arrow soared over the stag's back instead of burying itself between the ribs. It made off then, but gracefully and unhurried, utterly unbefitting an animal that had just looked death straight in the eye and escaped by a hair.

She stared after its hopping form, trying to figure out what to make of its sudden appearance and strange demeanour, as Thorin turned around in anger and started shouting at her. Before he could do more than open his mouth however, they heard an ominous splash and turned towards the sound.

She sighed as she looked at Bombur's prone from, lying sprawled in the middle of the stream and snoring like he was lying on the softest of featherbeds. "Well. Now you've done it."

* * *

It took an unspeakable amount of effort to get Bombur out of the water while avoiding ending up in the same predicament themselves. Once they got him on the shore, Oín looked him over and said, puzzlement clear in his voice, that he seemed physically fine. He was just fast asleep. And no matter what they did, they couldn't wake him up.

Of course they couldn't.

The others might think of it as no more than an unlucky coincidence, but she saw the incident for what it was.

A warning.

She was infinitely grateful that arrow had missed its mark.

* * *

If things had been bad before, they got ten times worse after that, because of course it had to be the heaviest Dwarf that was turned into a useless sleeping dead weight. The Dwarves couldn't carry Bombur comfortably for long, which meant that most of the time that weight was on her shoulders. Literally.

At the beginning of their trip, she would have balked at the idea of carrying around a heavy, sleeping Dwarf. Now however, she knew they had no alternatives and so she accepted the dead weight onto her back with only a minimum of grumbling about it.

It did mean that her legs tired out easily and started to hurt after a while. Whenever they rested, she lay flat on the ground, relieving her aching legs as much as possible. Normally, she would go flying, but that wasn't possible. Without the weightlessness of flying to make up for it, both the literal weight of Bombur and the figurative weight of being grounded made her feel as if the forest itself was forcing her into submission, pushing her closer and closer to the point where she would just roll over and give up.

Even the nights brought no respite. They no longer had any idea if it was day or night, being so deep inside the forest that even the smallest beam of sunlight couldn't reach them, so they just rested whenever they felt too tired to put one more foot in front of the other. The time between resting periods grew shorter and shorter.

And when they did rest, she couldn't just flop down and pass out like the others. Somehow, being in this accursed forest weakened the, in her case already less persistent, barriers around her mind that kept her fae inside her head. Several times already, in an unguarded moment, she had felt her fae starting to slip out like water leaking out of a leaky bucket. Although she had caught on in time and pulled it back in every time this happened, it scared her to death. She was terrified that if she went to sleep, she would just drift away and get lost, never to find the way back to her own body again.

So she allowed only her body to rest, refusing to surrender her mind to sleep no matter how heavy her eyelids were. She hadn't slept in days, and it was wearing her down.

Laying on the forest floor, every part of her body aching, keeping her eyes open despite their burning, she watched the others' dreams to pass the time and distract herself, jealous of their ability to escape the forest even for a few hours, until the time came for them to return to the miserable real world and drag themselves to their feet to walk another endless distance that didn't bring them any farther.

* * *

They all had nightmares. Nothing concrete, just vague strands of hopelessness and despair that made them groan and twitch every once in a while. She could have driven them away, filling their minds with wonderful soft nothingness, but the effort would tire her out even more. And, a small, ugly part of her thought, they should be glad to get any sleep at all, even if it left them restless and unsettled. It was more than she had.

She didn't like the thought, but she was just too tired to be bothered to do anything except watch their nightmares dully and wait for them to leave the surreal world of dreams.

So that was what she was doing now. Absently watching their dreams while worrying over the fact that their supplies were quickly running out with no way in sight to replenish them. And every day the trail of magic she followed grew fainter, making her wonder how much longer it would be before she lost it completely. She had no idea where to go from there, her thoughts spinning in tired circles within her aching head.

Suddenly something attracted her attention, like a rock falling into a still pool. Among the shifting, shady streams of hopelessness and misery surrounding her, one consciousness flared like a fire in the night. She almost immediately realized it was Thorin.

This wasn't just an uneasy dream, brought on by the continued misery of their circumstances. This was a memory, a traumatic flashback, filling her with such strong feelings of pain and grief and hatred that she almost cried out loud.

She had felt this awful mix of emotions once before, in Rivendell. At the time, she hadn't paid much attention. But here, in the dark and quiet, she was drawn to it like a moth to a flame, struggling to resist as waves of sadness and guilt washed over her, the familiarity of it making it impossible for her to ignore.

So she decided to deviate from her decision not to interfere with the Dwarves' dreamings. She reached in, caught his dream and pulled it out, waking him up.

His eyes opened and he bolted upright, staring into darkness as he took deep breaths, trying to calm down. It took him a few moments to realize there was another breathing pattern doing the same. He looked to the right and saw a pair of pale blue-grey eyes staring back at him, moving slightly as their owner panted along with him.

They stared at each other, long after their breathing had calmed down and silence had settled around them again. Distantly, he wondered if she could actually see him or if she just sensed he was there.

"Who did you lose?"

He startled, just a little, and then he hesitated. She didn't say anything else, just looked at him with those strange eyes of hers.

He knew, rationally, that they weren't alone, that the rest of the Company was strewn out all around them. But here, in the utter darkness and silence, it was easy to believe they were the only two beings alive in the world, and that his conversation partner consisted only of a pair of floating blue eyes.

"When Erebor fell," he began, his voice sounding unnaturally loud, "I lost everything. My kingdom, my home, many of my people…and my brother."

There was no sympathy or worse, the pity he saw so often when he talked about this, in her eyes. Only empathy and understanding, and he found it in himself to continue.

"His name was Frerin. He was the youngest, so…he didn't have as many responsibilities as I did. I was always stuck in meetings and he was out hunting or drinking. I envied him, for that. But…whenever it became too much…he was always there for me. He'd listen seriously to whatever was bothering me, and afterwards gave me good advice on how to deal with it. I always felt better after talking to him.

"When the Dragon came…instead of fleeing, he put himself in front of the beast even when it was clear all hope was lost. And I…I couldn't save him. I was too late to save him, just as I was too late to save the rest of my people. I failed him…I failed everyone…"

He broke off, shuddering. He didn't need to continue. She understood, even the feelings he couldn't put into words. The feelings of failure, of being too late, not just in those last few seconds, but also in the many years before that.

When he looked up again, the eyes were moving, and he realized she was making her way over to him. She must be able to see, then, he thought dully. She was clearly being very careful not to step on anybody.

As she approached, he realized she wasn't going to offer him any of the hollow words of comfort – _"It's not your fault," "There was nothing more you could have done,"_ – he had heard too many times over the years from too many people, whenever the howling pain in his chest grew too great and he needed to talk to somebody about it.

She settled beside him, not in front of him, so that he couldn't see her eyes anymore. He still heard her breathing, but he reached out anyway to assure himself she was there. His hand came to rest on what he suspected was a shoulder. He took a few deep breaths.

"And you?"

She stilled under his hand. He waited. He never could have imagined telling her about his ghosts. But in this strange night, the world seemed to have been turned upside-down and suddenly it didn't feel at all impossible that she would return the favour.

She turned her head and looked at him for a long time, eyes changing colour so fast he couldn't follow, until finally settling on a determined, but vulnerable dark blue.

In later years, she would never understand why, after refusing countless people trying to wheedle the story out of her, she told him.

Maybe because the strange air in this forest had addled her mind.

Maybe because she had kept it bottled up inside for too long.

Maybe, because she knew he would understand.

* * *

 **The next chapter is going to take a while. I've been working on and off on it for the past few weeks, but if it's not the most important chapter then it's definitely up there and I want it to be perfect.**


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